Ego Interitu
by sincerely-jessy
Summary: "People like Kurt Hummel were the worst kinds of people because they could destroy a whole person; a whole world, and emerge with nothing but a scratch." Blaine thought he was doomed to spend an eternity teaching public school. But maybe, in the right company, it wouldn't be so bad.
1. Chapter 1

_ "Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinion, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation."_

-Oscar Wilde

* * *

Kurt was having trouble sleeping.

That was no cause for alarm, of course. He always had trouble sleeping. For a very long time, at least.

It's just that his brain wouldn't shut up; it kept working long after his body had given up. As if it feared what lingered in the silence.

_Nothing, _Kurt wanted to assure his brain, _Nothing._

But maybe that's what was so scary. So he talked. And he was lucky enough to have friends who were willing to listen.

"Don't you just love that?" Kurt gushed, having read Mercedes a line from a play he was reading. "It's something I never really think about, you know? But I should. It's like….really important. It's phenomenal. It's like-"

"It's like, three in the morning. As much as I'd like to stay up and ponder the meaning of life with you, my Dad's standing in my doorway and giving me the stink eye."

"Tell your Dad that I've had a break through and I need someone to stay awake in order to listen to my pointless rambling and agree every time I pause to take a breath."

Mercedes laughed. He could hear as she put her phone down and quoted Kurt word for word and after a few moments of muffled talking she picked the phone back up.

"Could you hold off your existential crisis until at least seven in the morning?" Mercedes asked, but in a way that was dismissive of further conversation.

"I suppose."

"Night."

"Night Cedes." he said, and then a little louder, "Good night, Mr. Jones!"

"Get some sleep, Hummel." Kurt heard Jones Senior say gruffly before Mercedes hung up.

Kurt was leaning against the head board to his bed, laptop resting on his lap, and several tabs open. One tab was open to one of Yahoo's articles that stated: _Catch up on new trends in winter fashion_. He enjoyed reading Yahoo's attempts at being fashion forward; it always gave him a good laugh. Amateurs.

His other tab was open with nine different Wikipedia pages—although the school often advised against using Wikipedia as a viable source Kurt figured what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them— and he was just getting ready to begin typing his thesis statement for his paper when he heard a knock on his door.

"You up, kiddo?" Burt's voice echoed loudly. If Kurt hadn't been up, he certainly would have been after that cattle-call.

"Yeah. Working on English." Kurt called back.

"Good. That's good. Listen, I was going to talk to you-" his Dad stopped mid-sentence. "Can you open the door?"

Kurt set his laptop down on its cooling fan, slipped on his bunny slippers, and shuffled his way across the room. Winter was coming around early that year, and their hardwood floors were freezing. He opened the door and tried to read his Dad's expression.

_Undetermined, _Kurt decided, crossing his arms in an attempt to warm himself up.

"I, um…I got your progress report in the mail today." Burt started.

_Abort mission, abort mission, _Kurt thought. "I was getting ready to go to sleep, can we not-"

"Nice try. I heard you talking on the phone, and from the sounds of it you had at least three hours' worth of talking left to do."

It was times like this where Kurt wished he had one of those totally detached parents who couldn't tell their kids apart before having their morning coffee.

Defeated, Kurt's hands dropped to his sides, getting ready for whatever consequences he was going to face. He already knew what the problem was, and was hoping he could avoid this scenario by getting to the mailbox before his Dad did. But alas.

"First, congratulations on your English and History. I'm very proud. Trig is okay, but I'd like to see an A next time." Burt paused, reading his son's face. "It seems like you already know what I'm going to say."

"In my defense, I told you I was horrible at chemistry. I warned you the grade would be less than satisfactory, and you have no right to get upset with me just because things panned out the way I said they would." Kurt was in monologue mode already. "It's mid-marking period. I can bring it up by the time-"

Burt sometimes wondered if letting Kurt sign up for the debate team in middle school was a bad idea. He thought it would reign in his son's confrontational nature, not make it worse.

"I have a right to be upset with you whenever the hell I want. Especially if you're failing a class." he said sternly, watching as Kurt's expression turned from indignant to downright horrified.

"_Failing?_" He practically snatched the paper from his Dad's hands. He thought he was getting at least a C.

Burt watched his son have a mental break-down and was completely unfazed. Kurt had one of these at least once every few weeks, and after living with the kid for sixteen years they sort of lost their potency. He began to tune Kurt out, and only started talking again when he saw that Kurt's lips stopped moving.

"Now, I emailed your teacher." Kurt groaned, embarrassed. Burt continued, undeterred. "He hasn't gotten back to me yet but I asked him if there was any way you could raise your grade by the time report cards come out."

"I could have handled it myself." Kurt mumbled.

"We'll talk more about it in the morning, bud. Now get some sleep. It's a wonder you're not failing everything with how late you stay up these days."

And then his Dad was gone as if he hadn't just dropped an atomic bomb on Kurt's whole life. If people thought Kurt was sleepless before, he was an officially classified insomniac after that news.

* * *

The weekend went by quickly enough. Kurt and his Dad did talk that Saturday morning about his grades, but it was mostly a repeat of the night before. Kurt tuned him out. A large part of the success in their relationship was knowing when to listen and knowing when it was okay to zone out.

Finn offered to tutor him in Chemistry and that's when Kurt hit absolute rock bottom. That's when it hit him full-force. There was possibly nothing that could have been more depressing at that moment.

"…shopping allowance will be revoked." Kurt heard half of the sentence, tuning back in once he heard the word 'shopping'.

He laughed nervously. "I'm…I'm sorry?"

"Yack it up all you want, but I'm not kidding. No more shopping. I'm not gonna reward bad grades." Burt said.

Wonderful.

"At least he didn't threaten to send you to an all-boy's school." Finn mused after he'd left the room. "My mom pulls that one every time."

"One, we can't afford it. Two, that wouldn't 't exactly be a punishmentfor me." Kurt replied, and when met with a confused stare he elaborated. "It's like if your mom wanted to send you to an all-girl's school."

Finn's glazed over expression was enough to assure Kurt that he got the point.

* * *

That Monday was average enough, and Kurt had more or less gotten over his very short-lived, premature mid-life crisis. He was chatting with Tina and Mercedes on their way to lunch when Rachel made an unwelcome appearance, shattering his good mood.

"Did you get your progress report?" Rachel.

"I got one B and my Mom went coastal." Tina rolled her eyes.

"I got a C in history. I'm sorry, but I really don't give two shits about some dude whose name is Charlemagne." Mercedes attested to.

"Straight A's as always." Rachel said in her annoyingly chirpy voice. "What about you, Kurt?"

"Um…A's in English and History." he started, Mercedes interjecting to say that was to be expected. "I got a B in trig…and _I'mfailingchemistry."_

They all looked at him as if he was trying to hack up a fur ball. He took a deep breath and tried again.

"I'm failing Chemistry."

Rachel looked incredibly alarmed, but Tina and Mercedes wore their tell-tale smirks.

"Maybe if you'd quit staring into Anderson's eyes all day you'd know what the hell was happening." she joked, releasing the tension.

He was thankful for the change of topic, but really wished she had come up with something a little less embarrassing. "Not true. I do not stare."

"I thought you got over that little crush." Tina said. "I knew you were a _liar_."

"I had a little crush for a total of _two days _my sophomore year. But we've all had our share of embarrassing crushes, haven't we?"

"You're right. Sophomore year was a bad year for all of us." Mercedes concluded, dropping the subject.

Tina, who was still a sophomore, had no problem continuing on the subject. "So…are you going to go get _extra credit_?" she said, her voice filled with implications.

Kurt gazed at her, horrified as the two other girls laughed. They kept talking on the topic, words filled with sexual innuendo.

"How is it you guys know more about gay sex than I do?"

"Two dads." Rachel said.

"Sterek fanfiction." Mercedes admitted.

"Gay porn." Tina answered.

They turned to stare at Tina for a total of three seconds before shrugging and continuing down the hallway with their chatter.

"I could do better." Kurt joked. "I mean, have you seen the way he dresses? The bowties, for crying out loud. And don't get me _started _on the gel helmet."

"You won't believe what he told my class freshmen year." Tina started, clearing her throat and mocking his voice. "My hair prevents all the chemistry facts from falling out."

They all laughed; Rachel even snorted. "He's got the worst case of dad humor."

"It's cringe-worthy stuff."

That's when he bumped into the aforementioned.

"Kurt!" Blaine said in his overly enthusiastic voice. "Just the guy I was looking for."

Kurt heard his friends snickering, and gave them the finger, hiding it successfully behind his back from his Chem teacher. That succeeded at doing nothing but making them laugh even harder. "Yes, Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine paused, peering back at them before turning his attention back to Kurt. "I just got your email. I think it's really cool how you're taking the initiative here. It's rare to find ambitious students like that around here."

"Thanks." Kurt said, neglecting to mention the fact that it was his Dad who sent that email.

"Do you have a few moments? I'm on my prep and I'd like to discuss options with you." Cue the ridiculously obvious amount of hushed whispering from the trio. Kurt unceremoniously put up a second middle finger; Blaine was still oblivious.

"Sure. I was only going to lunch." Kurt answered, and he waited until Blaine turned around to walk to his classroom before glaring daggers into the hearts of his friends.

"Get it, Kurt." Mercedes whispered and he rolled his eyes before going down the hallway to catch up to his teacher.

* * *

Blaine sat behind his desk, reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as he looked Kurt's file over on his computer screen. Kurt watched as the other man made a few faces at whatever he was reading, and thought that maybe that was Blaine realizing Kurt's case was hopeless. Maybe Blaine invited him here simply to give him Burger King forms to fill out; to give him a jump start on his inevitable future.

"Well, something as simple as completing classwork would raise you up to a D, and you're pretty good with that." he said, still staring intently at the screen, not even sparing Kurt a glance.

"It really all comes down to what you get on the next few tests. You have the possibility to raise your grade to a B, but that's only if you get a minimum of a ninety percent on every single test until the end of the marking period."

Kurt resisted the urge to drop his jaw. That was impossible. Even the smartest kids in the class wouldn't be able to accomplish that feat. His Chem teacher was the harshest grader in the school.

"But, I am willing to work out a deal." Blaine said, turning his eyes from the screen to Kurt. "I already talked to Figgins."

Kurt figured it would be something easy, a one time thing like helping out at the school's next science fair.

"I could always use help grading papers. It would help you brush up on your basics, and it would help me be more efficient. I'll give you extra credit for every day you help." Blaine explained, watching in confusion as Kurt sighed in what appeared to be relief. "So, what do you say?"

"That…that sounds great. You're a life-saver."

"No problem. You're helping me more than I'm helping you, trust me." Blaine had a warm smile, Kurt noticed. "So let's work out a schedule."

He clicked some things on his computer screen for a minute as Kurt awkwardly shifted in his chair, looking around the room at the various lab safety posters.

"What days are you free?"

Kurt was about to say only Mondays, but then remembered that his shopping days, which usually took place on Wednesdays, were compromised. "I'm free Mondays and Wednesdays."

"I usually have teacher meetings on Mondays. So…let's make it every Wednesday after school?" Blaine said, looking at Kurt for approval. When his student nodded he clicked a few buttons before turning back to him. "All set. You're free to go."

Blaine stopped to write Kurt a pass so he wouldn't get yelled up for showing up late to lunch.

_There goes my Wednesdays, _Kurt thought sourly as he walked down the hallways to lunch.

And that was the moment that changed everything.

* * *

A/N: So this is different from anything I've written before. It's going to have roughly 30 chapters. Thank you for reading and feedback is always welcome!

Also special thanks to Stephanie for reading through my crap over the years and always giving me honest and helpful critique.


	2. Chapter 2

"_STOP SHOOTING AT ME_!" Finn yelled at his step-brother, eyes glued to the screen and trying to avoid the bullets that kept coming in his direction. The two had come up with a very nice system. Finn would occasionally join Kurt in Top Model reruns and Kurt, in turn, would have to engage in defeating fictional pixelated villains with him.

"DIE DIE DIE!" Kurt was chanting; now so engrossed in the game that he couldn't even hear Finn's pleas. He was truly a sight to behold, clad in nothing but a white undershirt and pajama pants, hair far from its normal, perfectly styled appearance. It took a while to grow comfortable enough around Finn, but soon enough they settled into a comfortable kinship.

It was a surprise to both of the brothers when they found out early on in their relationship that Kurt, for someone who rarely played, was excellent at video games.

As words came across Finn's half of the screen announcing that he died, he threw his controller down, both hands resting on the top of his head as he stared at the screen in nothing short of distress.

"How do you keep winning?" he asked exasperatedly.

Truth being told, Kurt's tactic was to just keep pressing random buttons until eventually something happened, but an expert never revealed all of their secrets.

"Practice, young grasshopper."

Finn looked as if he was just about ready to pull his own hair out at Kurt's cryptic answer, and Kurt was already thinking up more ways to mess with him when their house phone began to ring, distracting them both from the trivialness of their conversation.

Kurt picked up the phone, only slightly surprised when he heard Rachel on the other line, cutting down to the chase instantly. "Where's Finn?"

"Good morning to you, too." Kurt answered, only slightly irritated. One becomes numb to her clear disregard of basic things like manners after a while.

"Where's Finn?" she repeated, obviously very hell-bent on getting into contact with her boyfriend. Wordlessly, Kurt handed his brother the phone, and walked back up to his room. He had already grown bored with beating Finn for the third time that day at video games, and his hands were actually going clammy; clearly a symptom of hair-product withdrawal.

* * *

He went through his usual motions, styling his hair and changing into a cotton button up. As soon as he was finished, as if waiting for him to look presentable, his phone began to buzz.

He looked at the I.D. briefly before picking it up. "Let me start off by making a request: please don't tell me about any new sales at the mall. That will only serve to send me spiraling into post-shopping depression."

"Don't worry. I just called to ask how yesterday went with Anderbabe." Mercedes said.

He had avoided teasing and persecution all of yesterday due to everyone being preoccupied with Mr. Schue's newest assignment. But he knew there was no way he'd evade it forever.

"What a lovely nickname. Did you come up with that all by yourself?" He was trying his best to deflect, and he knew that his friend saw right through that.

"I'm just teasing you. Lighten up."

He hoped that was true. The last thing he needed was word getting out that he had a crush—which was on all accounts _fictional_—on his chemistry teacher. As if he didn't get enough unwanted attention just by existing.

* * *

Later on that day Kurt was in the kitchen, giving Puck and Finn a quick lesson on cooking for their personal purposes. He would be lying if he said he didn't know the only reason they wanted these skills was to impress their respective girlfriends, Lauren and Rachel.

Normally he would be disgusted that they were calling upon his impressive culinary skills simply for the purpose of getting laid, but it was a welcome distraction. He hadn't shopped or even been in a mall for over eight days, and it was taking everything in his power not to fall apart at the seams.

"Finn, gimme." He said, grabbing the knife from the clumsy boy's hands and showing him how to carefully remove the pit from the avocado. "Not all your problems are solved by stabbing things repeatedly."

"Only most of them." Puck quipped, and the two high-fived each other, the display serving no purpose except to make Kurt roll his eyes.

It was while Kurt was helping Puck cube avocados that the jock actually thanked Kurt.

"Anything to help my fellow man get lucky." Kurt said distractedly, eyes never leaving the cutting board. "But, I'll tell you, Finn, it's going to take a lot more than a romantic dinner to get into Rachel's pants."

He felt a lull in the conversation and looked up to see Puck and Finn sharing a knowing look. He tried his best to decipher it, feeling left out as he often did with the two, considering the bond they both shared was a decade long and Kurt had only been Finn's brother for a little less than a year.

"Something I should know?" Kurt piped up after the silence prolonged to the point of making him uncomfortable.

Puck turned his gaze to him, smirking in a way that made Kurt feel even more out of place. "Let's just say Finn is no stranger to what it takes to get in Rachel's pants."

Kurt briefly wondered what the hell that was supposed to mean, finally realizing what Finn must feel like whenever Kurt started using words above a seventh grader's vocabulary. But then it hit him all at once and he dropped the knife on the cutting board in utter _shock_.

"_No_." He wasn't sure what he was more upset about, Finn not telling him out of some bro-code, or Rachel not telling him out of simple respect given to a friend…well, frenemy.

Puck was nodding, smirk still in place, and Finn was shooting his friend a look, obviously uncomfortable talking about his personal relations in front of his prude of a step brother.

"They," Kurt lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "They _did the dirty_?"

The two guys stared at Kurt disbelievingly for a hushed moment before turning to each other, throwing their heads back, and bursting out into uncontrollable laughter. Kurt felt his cheeks rapidly begin to heat up in absolute embarrassment.

"Dude, you can't be for real." Puck asked after the laughter died down.

Kurt turned his attention back to the cutting board so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with any of them.

It wasn't Kurt's fault that these things weren't exactly his area of expertise. His world consisted of clothes and musicals and gossip about _other _people 'doing the dirty' but it never really was his primary concern. Why would it be? He had a lot more things to worry about, like how the hell he was going to get those slushie stains out of his boxers—when allowed enough time the cold liquid dripped down to some _odd _places. Any glee member could attest to that.

But the resounding point was that Kurt would leave that business of sexual prowess to manwhores like Puckerman and endearing football players like Finn, and he was perfectly content just making it out of high school in one piece so he could move on to bigger and better things. Then, and _only _then would he worry himself with such trivial things.

"Aw, we hurt his feelings." Puck crooned, which made Kurt turn snide in sheer defense.

"Not even." Kurt sneered. "My whole self-esteem isn't exactly built around my sleaziness, unlike some people in the room."

"Ouch." Puck put a hand up to his heart. "I'm wounded."

Finn was watching their antics, using the distraction so he could slyly try to steal one of the wraps Kurt had already prepared; hand being smacked away by a wooden spoon that left an angry red impression.

"Dude!" Finn said, examining his hand.

Kurt showed no remorse, turning his attention back to showing his ungrateful associates how to finish preparing the dish.

* * *

"Hey, loser." Santana said into the phone in a hushed tone. Blaine heard the sounds of a shifting mattress; figuring she was trying not to wake up Brittany. "I just got your text. What gives?"

Blaine sighed, looking at the wall in front of him. He had been up for a while, so her call had not woken him up. It just startled him out of his tendency to over think. "You know I miss you. It's just…now is not a good time."

"That's what you said last month." Blaine knew this argument was coming. "And the one before that. And the one before that."

"Things keep coming up." He insisted, although he could tell his tone came off more unsure than he intended. Blaine was never really good at lying to people. It just came to the point where he did it so often that most people stopped trying to inquire what he was hiding. No one cared enough to try to open Pandora's box, and he had always been grateful for that.

But then there were people like Santana—determined, strong-headed, stubborn Santana, who had a heart of gold and a grip of steel and just did not know how to let things go.

Like her old high school friend. Things had changed since high school; way more than anyone could have bargained for.

"I'm taking the first flight out to Ohio and there's nothing you can do about it. You're stuck with me." He gritted his teeth to keep from saying something rude just to keep her away. It's not like it would have worked anyway; and all it would serve to do was make him seem like an asshole.

"San…" One last try; one more plea.

"I hope your guest room has heating. You know what happens to my limbs when it gets cold..." She continued, going on for a while before she realized he was no longer speaking. "Is it something I did? Is that why you don't want to see me?"

"No, no, of course not." And that much was true. Santana was one of his only real friends. Even after he came out and his popularity declined slightly, she had always been right there by his side, ready with an arsenal of insults and a mean left swing for anyone that even looked at him funny. And he owed her the world.

But the truth was, he cut himself off from that world long ago, and for good reason. He left high school with big dreams, he was the talk of the town, the crème of the crop. If anyone was going to make something of themselves it was that Blaine Anderson. He may have had hair like a wild boar and the work-ethic of a sloth but he had a certain brightness about him. A spirit; a light that danced just behind his eyes.

Suffice to say it had been a long time since anyone said anything like that about him. And he guessed he didn't like seeing people from those days of hope and optimism; those days where he dared to shoot for the stars. All it did was magnify his failures.

So, he was telling the truth when he said it was nothing against Santana. But he really didn't know how to feel about her seeing his life as it was. He was in the middle of a disaster of a relationship, his job was less than idealistic, and the other day he thought he found a grey hair and nearly offed himself. Because greying at the tender age of twenty-six was definitely not on his to-do list.

And to make it worse, Santana was totally living the dream. She lived in New York city with a hot girlfriend—not that Blaine wanted a hot girlfriend but the idea was nice—a successful modeling career and even a side job as a guest star on that corny soap opera _Falling For Dallas_ that involved a lot of terrible fake accents. Santana's was pretty convincing for a girl that was raised in south New Jersey, but still left a lot to be desired.

"I'll see you next week. And stop frowning. I'm going to suffer from second-hand depression." She drawled, somehow knowing his facial features even from miles away.

He looked down at the lesson plan in his hand, sighing slightly as he realized how much he didn't care about it.

"I'll see you in a week."

"And tell Casanova over there to break out the karaoke machine. We've still got some unresolved things to work out." she reminded him.

"Will do. See you." Blaine said, hanging up before his high maintenance friend could give him any more commands.

It was then that he realized he didn't even bother to tell "Casanova" that Santana was coming to stay at their humble abode for a while. As if the two didn't already have enough to argue about. He just hoped they had the ability to postpone all couple differences for at least a week or two. The last thing he needed was Santana reporting back to their group of friends that Blaine was having relationship problems.

He briefly thought that maybe he could break it to him over dinner on Wednesday, grimacing once again when he realized he had to stay after school with what's-his-name and would not have time to prepare anything.

_Kurt_, his brain supplied. _His name is Kurt._

Whether his name was Kurt or Ladasha, the student unfortunately had priority over his personal issues. So, he couldn't cancel on him.

_Looks like Wednesday afternoon is just going to be me and Kurt then_, was his last thought on the subject before turning back to his lesson plan.

* * *

A/N: Once again, thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

There was something about school that filled Kurt with disturbingly homicidal thoughts and tendencies. It wasn't his fault, really. Hating high school was a surprisingly common side-effect of existing. But, it was during lunch when he considered using his plastic fork to stab Azimio in the eye for laughing with food in his mouth that Kurt knew he really had a problem.

"If Summer doesn't come soon I'm going to end up in the news." he complained to Mercedes as they walked to the east wing of the school, he to Chemistry and she to Political Science.

They crossed through the dreaded intersection, Kurt nearly losing a shoe and Mercedes earrings getting caught on ten different things on the journey.

"I feel you."

She stopped in front of the chem lab with a knowing smirk. Kurt glared daggers at her.

As he sat through Chemistry he tried his best to pay attention to whatever Blaine was demonstrating, but he found his mind wandering to various things like what he was going to wear to Finn's football game tomorrow, and whether or not the pudding he ate during lunch may have been poisonous. It was only when Blaine's voice grew closer that Kurt looked up long enough to notice his teacher was almost right in front of his desk. He could tell by the way his voice rose and fell that he must have been asking a question.

Kurt knew better than anyone how to get out of answering a question. It was a technique he'd mastered by the time he was thirteen. He simply stared intently at Blaine, like he understood every single thing the teacher was saying, even nodding in agreement at every pause.

Blaine turned away, fully convinced that Kurt was actually following what he was saying, and chose a different victim, which was a poor girl named Sally Harrington who didn't know the difference between covalent and coed.

He considered stabbing himself with a pencil to get out of class early. Even if it was McKinley, they wouldn't let him bleed to death on the floor.

Or would they?

He decided it wasn't worth taking the chance, plus, he couldn't risk getting any blood on his shirt, since it created stains that were truly a bitch to get out. And not to mention the chance that he could accidently strike a vital vein and end up dying. That would not be cool.

And that's when the thought hit him: _What if I tried to kill myself?_

He definitely did not mean it in a serious manner; definitely not in the suicidal intent. But in the fleeting way that one often considers such virtually impossible things: _what if I meet a celebrity, what if I won the lottery, what if I spotted a U.F.O? _But this time it was not fleeting. And so, Kurt Hummel began to ponder his own death.

Well, he supposed a lot of people would be sad. His Dad, Carole, Finn, Mercedes, Tina, and everyone else from glee. He even imagined Puck, tough and overly confident Puck crying over his grave and it gave him a funny feeling in his gut. He quickly banished the disconcerting image.

He began to think about all the little things he could miss: catchy show tunes, miraculous sales at the mall, arguing with Mr. Schue, Finn complaining about watching Lifetime movies with him, his Dad's awkward but endearing talks, Rachel's mad conquest for power in a school that genuinely did not care, Mercedes' infectious laughter when she was the only one in the room who got one of his jokes, Tina's sarcasm, complaining about chemistry classes with Mr. Anderson-

Would Mr. Anderson miss him? Like, actually miss him? Or would he just be another "Oh, what a shame. He was such a nice boy." which was the equivalent to a shrug in terms of grieving? The thought of his death being nothing but a "too bad" gave Kurt another weird feeling, so he cut off that line of thought altogether and began to think of English class next period, which would consist of him trying to figure out why the hell Mercutio put up with all of Romeo's bullshit.

The bell rang just then, cutting Blaine's speech short. The young teacher always got so involved in his lessons that he often forgot to pay attention to time.

"Alright, I'm going to ask you guys to write up the pre-lab. We'll go over it in class tomorrow before the experiment." He started saying, but half the class already left. Kurt saw Blaine's charisma falter slightly in what was clearly annoyance before it returned with a vengeance. The teacher chuckled to himself.

Kurt filed that into his brain as reason number seventy that he could not be a teacher. He didn't have the patience for it. But then again, Blaine was too much of a pushover. Kurt thought he would have been better off teaching kindergarten.

It's not like Lima had an abundance of quality kindergarten teachers. In fact, Kurt's very own teacher used to spend nap time sniffing glue. He was aware of this fact because he never really slept during naptime, instead opting to stay awake and people watch. Even back then he was a judgmental prick, and he prides himself on the fact.

As Kurt walked out of the classroom he was stopped by Blaine's voice. "Don't forget to come by after school."

Kurt gave him a confused look for a total of three seconds before he remembered how he was sentenced to extra credit activities for every Wednesday until further notice. He tried his best not to let his disappointment be evident. "Can't wait." He said in a tone that was less than convincing, hardly even sorry for it, either.

Blaine smiled good-naturedly. "Someone's enthusiastic."

"Always." Kurt agreed, smiling now that he realized Blaine could tell he had several places he rather be.

"See you." were Blaine's final words as Kurt headed out of the classroom.

* * *

Blaine had spent most of his day between classes and during prep period texting Santana and telling her what she should and should not bring. He knew she was accustomed to a very luxurious life style, but he doubted he had enough storage space for her whole closet to Ohio.

**Santana: **_I have to look flawless at all times. There's always paparazzi._

**Blaine: **_Not in Lima._

Which was true. It wasn't even on the map, and the rest of the world often liked to forget that places like Lima, Ohio existed. Blaine would like to forget it existed, too, but unfortunately he was reminded every time he woke up and looked out the window.

He was sure if there were any way he would ever become a mass murderer, it would be due to living in the town for one year too long.

**Santana: **_I'm bringing you designer bowties._

Blaine knew a bribe when he saw one. But even he was human.

**Blaine: **_I love you._

**Santana: **_Who doesn't?_

He put his phone away, his last class of the day filing into his classroom.

"Greetings." he said brightly. "Today we'll be discussing the properties of the Nobel gases."

He was met with collective groans, but not even moody teenagers could mess up his good mood now that he knew he was only a week away from getting new bowties. And let it be known that Blaine _does not _have a problem. Really. It was either bowties or snorting crack.

* * *

That day after school Kurt stopped by his locker briefly before making his way to Mr. Anderson's room, walking to the east wing of the school by himself. He saw what he thought were jocks with some slushies—which was his equivalent of a bomb scare—but all they did was exchange insults with him in passing. It was almost civil; a word that he'd never have used to describe any of them a few moments before.

He walked into the room to see Blaine was already seated at his desk, engrossed in some papers in front of him. Kurt stood there awkwardly for a few moments, waiting to be acknowledged. When he realized he would have to get the teacher's attention he simply walked into the room. Blaine looked up, startled to realize he now had company.

"Oh, Kurt, you're early." He said. "I was just getting a head start." He gestured for Kurt to come toward his desk and halved the pile of papers in his hands.

Kurt sat down at a desk, examining the papers before realizing something. He couldn't grade these.

Seemingly reading his mind, Blaine began to search his desk for a second answer key, until he realized he forgot to make a copy.

"Sorry, copier's broken indefinitely. We'll have to share."

_I don't want to be near you_, Kurt thought. It was nothing against Blaine, but Kurt just had issues when it came to people in his personal space in general. Especially people he didn't know. He thought about saying something. He thought hard.

See, Kurt's main problem was deciding whether or not to be a rude little shit. But that was simply his lot in life; he couldn't help it.

He decided to be polite, pulling up a chair next to Blaine and grabbing a pen, getting to work immediately. He figured the sooner he finished the sooner he could go.

He was half-way through his fourth test when he just couldn't hold his tongue anymore. "Are these kids brain dead?"

Blaine looked at him due to the sudden break of silence before chuckling a bit. "Yeah, they're not a bright bunch, unfortunately."

"And I thought I was bad at chemistry." Kurt mumbled before returning back to his work. Blaine was very amused by this kid. All of these weeks of class and he was sure Kurt had probably said three words to him during any given week, but now he had unleashed an opinionated monster.

"I'm getting dumber while reading these." Kurt announced after being halfway through the pile. "I'm literally unlearning chemistry right now."

Blaine tried to stifle his laughter, not wanting to encourage Kurt but at the same time completely agreeing with what he was saying. "Believe me; you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

"You mean what you've gotten me into."

"How is it my fault?" Blaine set his papers down to actually look at Kurt.

"You're the one who gave me an F."

"I didn't _give _you an F. You earned it. They just pay me to write it down." Blaine clarified and that shut Kurt right up.

Kurt wasn't used to people actively arguing back. Most people just waited until he was done with his sly comments and then proceeded to tell him something dismissive to end the conversation. But Blaine heard him out, and countered successfully. He was taken aback for a total of two seconds.

"But they also paid you to teach me. Which you failed to do." Kurt said, and he was pretty sure he was on his way to a detention but he didn't even care.

To his surprise Blaine laughed. "That's possible. But it would help if you actually paid attention in class."

Kurt was suddenly quiet. Maybe his act hadn't been as convincing as he thought. "I pay attention." He mumbled, although he knew at this point it was futile.

"Of course." Blaine said sarcastically, and the two went back to grading papers in a companionable silence.

Blaine finished before him, setting aside his pile and leaning back in his chair, stretching. "Thanks for this." He said after a while.

"No problem." Kurt said distractedly, trying to decipher a girl's particularly sloppy hand-writing.

Blaine began to enter the grades from the finished tests into the computer, making conversation in the mean-time. "So, you're one of the Glee kids, right? I heard you guys were pretty good."

"Really? Who told you that?" Kurt couldn't imagine anyone in the school who would like them enough to give them praise.

"Miss Pillsbury." Blaine clarified. Oh, that made sense. It was obvious the guidance counselor was infatuated with Mr. Schue anyway, so even if they did suck she'd never say so.

"You know, I was in Glee Club, too. Back when it was cool." Blaine teased as he continued to enter the grades into the system.

"Really?" Kurt asked, genuinely surprised. He looked up from his papers, staring at his teacher for a while before nodding. "I can actually see it…"

"I'm not sure if I should be offended..." Blaine said, obviously amused. "So do you like Glee? Mr. Schuester runs it right? The Spanish Teacher?"

"Yeah. It's great." Kurt said truthfully. "Mr. Schue and I butt heads sometimes on things like song choices and dance moves and...well, talent. But some of my best friends are in Glee. It's a place where I can be myself, you know?"

Blaine could relate. Glee club was pretty much one of the few things in that school that he actually enjoyed. Sure, he did other things, but all of that seemed like keeping up appearances. He was _supposed _to like lacrosse. He was _supposed _to like being popular. And so he did.

"I know." He took the rest of the papers out of Kurt's hands, not wanting to keep him here longer than necessary. "You can go. I'll just finish these up."

"Thanks. I'll see you in class." Kurt said, putting his chair back and gathering his stuff to go.

"See you." Blaine said as Kurt headed out of the door.

And then he was back to a silent room, menial work.


	4. Chapter 4

Mike Chang entered Chemistry class next Wednesday looking like he had just narrowly avoided death by blender. Blaine's eyebrow raised at his student's disheveled appearance, but didn't bother to question it. He'd taught in the school long enough to know there were countless explanations for why anyone would look like that; half of them being completely inappropriate.

Following suit few moments later in the same state was Kurt, and that really sent Blaine's mind reeling. Kurt and Mike? Really? Blaine's gaydar must have been getting incredibly rusty considering he thought Mike was as straight as they come. But then again, he was the same guy that couldn't figure out Santana liked girls until he caught her making out with one senior year.

As the two took their seats for the beginning of his class, Blaine simply couldn't hide his smirk. Hook-ups during school hours? He never really pegged Kurt as the type. As he turned to the board and began to write out the title of the lesson he couldn't help but laugh a bit.

_Go Hummel_, he thought, holding a new kind of respect for him.

* * *

Kurt was certain he was going to be ten types of scarred for life due to what he just endured. Normally around that time of day he was walking through the halls with Mercedes, but he had left one of his binders in his car.

It was when he was crossing the field to get to the parking lot that he heard a very familiar voice yelling for help. He turned around to see fellow glee clubber, Mike Chang, practically booking it across the field. He looked up to see the industrial sized lawnmower, which was usually driven by a member of the janitorial staff, being operated by someone in a letterman jacket.

Kurt understood the football team's need to publicly humiliate at least five people between each period, but this was really pushing it.

"Knock it off!" Kurt was yelling to them, but his voice was lost in the sound of the puttering motor. Kurt briefly surveyed his surroundings for some kind of authority figure to help him out in the matter, but it took all of two seconds to realize he was on his own.

By that time the lawn mower was close enough for Kurt to recognize the low-life operating it; the one and only Dave Karofsky. He knew the creep wasn't exactly fond of him and that getting involved was pretty risky, but Mike was a friend.

_If I die; I die a martyr, _Kurt thought.

The result of that decision was Kurt distracting David long enough for Mike to escape to safety. Sure, he tripped several times while trying to outrun that goddamn machine, and he was pretty sure his clothes were suffering severely from rolling around in the grass, but that was friendship. To be completely honest, if Kurt had had a chance to do it all over again he would have wished Mike good luck and booked it to the parking lot, but he supposed there was a reason we're only allowed one shot.

About five minutes in the lawn-mower ran out of gas, and Dave had stepped down from it. Kurt briefly thought the jock was actually going to help him off of the ground, but he instead opted to walk around him.

"Hey, nimrod!" Kurt called out to Karofsky and the jock turned around, as if not used to Kurt's insults by now. It had been three years, for crying out loud.

"Say that a little louder?" Karofsky asked, and Kurt had absolutely no problem repeating it.

"Nim. Rod."

Karofsky grabbed onto the front of Kurt's shirt, hauling him from the ground so that the two were face to face. Kurt had barely enough time to worry about the subsequent wrinkles.

"Don't test me, Hummel." Karofsky said, barely an inch away from Kurt's face.

Kurt examined Karofsky. The jock up close looked every bit as terrifying as he did from afar. But what _really _got Kurt's attention was this underlying _something _in Karofsky's gaze.

He didn't have time to ponder it as a teacher came charging across the field and pulled them apart. Mike, thankfully, had retrieved help.

"This is your final warning, Dave!" The middle-aged women admonished.

_He's had around fifteen final warnings, _Kurt thought warily as he walked away from the scene with Mike Chang in tow.

"Dude, you look-" Mike started but Kurt cut him off.

"Don't talk about it."

The two walked into his Chemistry class and he dared _anyone _to make a comment about his appearance. Thankfully, Mr. Anderson did not call either of them out on it.

When Kurt left Chemistry and started to make his way to English, he found himself wondering how much longer he could put up with things. Once someone even remotely different from the masses dared to share the hallways with everyone else it was like diving into murky, shark infested waters.

He made his way from class to class with the rigidity of a soldier, and found himself always looking over his shoulder slightly; always double-checking before turning a corner. As much as he would never admit it out loud, or even to himself when he was in the safe confines of his own home, he very much lived in fear. Not in the subtle way that was almost more sinister.

Not that he wasn't fine with that. Don't let people see your weakness. Once they smell a drop of blood they'll all zone in; they'll eat you alive.

And it was with this slight panic hovering over him that he entered Mr. Anderson's classroom for his extra credit assignment.

"Hey, Kurt." Blaine said brightly in a way that a puppy often runs up to greet their owner at the door when left home alone for too long.

"Hi." He said warily, setting his bag down.

He had found time before coming to the classroom to fix his appearance for the most part. But he feared that his sour mood was given away by his voice. Most days he was just fine. In fact, he would have been able to laugh at the sheer _ridiculousness _of getting chased across a field with a _fucking lawnmower_. But today wasn't one of those days. Especially considering his little encounter with Karofsky afterward had left him literally shaking.

It was as if it had all been building up since the beginning of the week; each little incident piling up, one on top of the other. Kurt wasn't sure who it was in the grand scheme of things that had it out for him, but they surely wanted to see how much it would take for him to break.

He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"Are you alright?" Blaine asked, giving Kurt a once over that was trademark for every adult he'd ever met. It wasn't that they were really concerned with his welfare, but they were _supposed _to be, so they made it very obvious that they cared to the point where it was more of an act then it was a reaction.

"I'm fine." He answered all too quickly, and that cut off all possibilities for conversation. Without even thinking, he pulled up a chair next to Blaine at his desk. He hadn't even considered that the teacher most likely found the time to make a second copy of the answer key. His mind was too preoccupied with other things, and, although he would never admit it, he didn't mind the slight comfort of having someone near him.

If Blaine found Kurt's actions odd he didn't let on, getting right down to business. He handed Kurt his half of the papers, and mercifully did not try to engage in small talk.

Kurt tried his best to concentrate on the words in front of him, but they seemed to swim across the page. No matter how he tried to piece it together they just _would not _make sense. He didn't even try to make sense of it after a while. It seemed too pointless. Like all of this. High school was _pointless_.

"Kurt?" Blaine questioned, and if Kurt had been paying attention he would have noticed that the only way Blaine would have realized something was wrong was if he were watching him.

"Hm?" Kurt replied, not trusting himself to form full sentences. Not wanting to give himself away.

"The paper's upside down." Blaine said gently, passing up the opportunity to tease him for it.

"Oh." Kurt said, turning it right-side up and managing to make enough sense of it to begin grading. He got through about three papers before he heard Blaine's voice interrupting his train of thought.

"Kurt?"

And Kurt was prepared for Blaine to ask him a bunch of questions about what was wrong; about what he could do to help ensure Kurt a "safe and successful" high school experience. He'd heard it a million times before; out of several different mouths. The only difference between them and Blaine was that Blaine had a way of at least pretending to be sincere.

"You can go."

Kurt looked up, slightly surprised. That had not been what he was expecting. Where was the speech? Where was the inquisition? No, something about this was _all wrong_.

But he wasn't even going to pause to question it, because if he asked too many questions he would crush the overwhelming feeling of gratitude that was beginning to stem.

"Thank you." was all he said, packing up and heading to the door. He stopped at the door, turning around and regarding Blaine for a moment before saying, "Have a good day, Mr. Anderson."

Blaine probably would have returned the sentiment, but it was obvious to anyone that it was a bit too late for that.

* * *

Blaine drove to the airport to pick up Santana, blasting Katy Perry's newest single and resisting the urge to roll his windows down and sing along at the top of his lung for numerous reasons: one being that it was too cold, and also it would attract way too much attention.

After a while he found he was shutting the music out, mind still on Kurt Hummel from his seventh period class of Juniors. It took him all of ten minutes in the student's company to realize that the result of his appearance earlier that day was definitely _not _due to some hook-up, but was more likely caused by some sort of bullying.

The thing was, all throughout Blaine's high school experience he had been in the same place as Kurt in the _emotional _sense, but it never really escalated to physical violence. But then again, Blaine had not been as out and proud as Kurt was either, and he lived in South Jersey, not the unbelievably bigoted cesspool that was Lima. Really, if given enough thought, his and Kurt's high school experiences were completely different.

Blaine would have tried to talk to the student about it if he thought that was what Kurt wanted. But he could tell better than most when someone simply wanted to be left alone. Still, he had a right to worry.

When he arrived at the terminal for Santana's particular flight, it took him ten minutes to finally spot her, doused in leopard print from head to toe in a way that should have been tacky but she managed to make it gorgeous, and unfairly so.

"Anderson!" She approached him, her arms wide open and hand making a "gimme" gesture. He rolled his eyes fondly and made his way over, yelping when she squeezed him in a bone crushing hug, and for a few seconds of his life absolutely everything was _boobs_.

She saw the look on his face and couldn't help laughing. "If you've got it flaunt it, baby." She even did a shimmy for emphasis and he had to look away.

"Noted." He was unable to hide the grin on his face. "I miss you."

She stopped to really look at him; her lips pursed.

Blaine knew she wouldn't get it, and would probably brush off his declaration. After all, even in high school he was known as the slightly odd kid who said and did peculiar things. People who knew him were used to it. But he really did miss her, even though he was reluctant to her coming to visit. It just didn't hit him how much he missed her until she was right in front of him, reminding him what exactly it was he would have to do without the moment she left again.

"Come on." she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "I have to go to luggage claim, and then afterward you are taking me home to that gorgeous boyfriend of yours."

That was the part he _wasn't _looking forward to.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for the reviews so far! And thank you for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt was meditating like Rachel suggested, humming as he sat cross legged on his bed.

As his thoughts got truly volatile his Dad knocked on the door. "Kurt? You okay in there?"

Kurt thought there was no right way to answer that question. The truth was, in times of stress Kurt often found it therapeutic to imagine various scenarios in which he was put in a position to deal out revenge on his various enemies. But, of course, revenge is a _bad word—_or so Miss Pillsbury insists—and should _never be the answer_.

Even so, he was entitled to his imagination. And in his imagination practically _everyone _was so royally screwed that it wasn't even laughable. Burt's interruption had put an end to that.

"I was meditating." He offered up as he opened the door. "You should try it. It's relaxing.

Burt looked on at his son before shaking his head disbelievingly. "If you're planning something illegal at least wait until you're no longer in my custody."

"It'll be _too late_." Kurt insisted, trying to sound serious but not being able to hide the smile on his face.

"You're a really weird kid." Burt remarked fondly. "When you're done being a criminal mastermind there's dinner on the table."

"I'll be down in a moment." Kurt went back in his room and decided to get in some studying for midterms before joining him.

* * *

"…I couldn't even look her in the eye. It's just…okay, I know you think I'm picky. But even you have to admit that wearing polka dots and stripes in the _same outfit _is a sin."

Kurt was talking to Finn as he watched his brother struggle at _Dance Dance Revolution_. He figured if Finn was going to stay inside and play video games every Sunday at least he should be moderately active. Plus, he was also determined to get rid of Finn's man-boobs if it was the last thing he did.

"Sure, man. Whatever you say." Finn said, absolutely _winded _from the game but actually slightly ahead of Kurt in the score. Wow. Who knew?

"Even _you _wouldn't leave the house in something like that." Kurt said, but then realized his step brother was not responding. "…right?"

"Like you'd _let _me." Finn reminded him and Kurt had to acknowledge that much was true. If Finn was going to be associated with him now there was no way he could leave the house looking any way. He let Finn keep his plaid shirts, and his nylon vests, and his general lumber jack chic appearance. But Kurt had _limits_. He cringed at the thought of Finn walking down the hallway, and greeting him with a striped shirt and polka dot shorts.

Finn watched what he had learned to recognize as Kurt imagining a terrible scenario and he had to laugh.

"Dude. Relax." he said, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and ruffling his hair despite the squawks of protest. After a few moments the giant let him go and Kurt could do nothing but try to smooth his hair out ruefully.

* * *

Kurt came to school around noon that Monday due to a dentist appointment. He was walking away from checking in with the front office, headed to his Trig class when Tina found him.

"You're just in time." She linked arms with him and steered him toward the opposite direction of his class.

"In time for what?"

"Sophomores and Juniors were just called down to an assembly." She looked uncharacteristically excited.

"_And_?"

"It's an _anti-bullying _assembly."

He looked at her in stunned silence before his lips began to twitch and before he knew it he was giving into the temptation and practically _cackling_.

"You're _joking_." He wheezed out between bouts of laughter.

"I can't make this up." She insisted. "Oh my god, I can't _wait_."

"I hope there's a corny slideshow." Kurt said as they began to walk again toward the auditorium.

"I hope they have a slogan."

"I hope they do a Q and A."

"I already have some questions jotted down." he said, pausing to get the wrinkled notebook paper out of the pocket of her leather jacket. "What do you do if your bully is a demented cheerleading coach?"

"Better: How do you get slushie stains out of white fabric?"

"Ooo, good one."

* * *

The assembly was a load of crock-shit just as Tina and Kurt predicted. Unfortunately, there was no Q and A, probably at the request of Mr. Figgins.

The speakers were a couple whose son was bullied and it resulted in his suicide. His name was Jamie—a name that stuck with Kurt for the wrong reasons. Sure, Jamie died, and that was sad. But Jamie is also just a _really _nice name. And Kurt thought that sometimes it's better to remember things for a good reason then it is to recall out of sadness.

They spoke of Jamie, and there _was _a slide show. And it was in no way corny. There was not a dry eye in the room; even Puck was tearing up a few rows behind Kurt.

But the assembly began to go downhill as they let some of the scheduled student speakers begin to talk.

Kurt and Tina nearly _lost their shit _when cheerleaders, hockey players, guys in _lettermen jackets, _began to talk about the kind of bullying they faced each and every day. Of course none of the kids who actually got bullied were asked to speak at the assembly. Not one person from the glee club, or the AV club, or even a loner was asked to share their story. And even if they were approached, most of them would have turned it down.

Because it's really hard to spill your heart out in front of a room of people that are responsible for most of your problems.

So Kurt watched as phony after phony talked about their personal stories, and tried his best not to say something derivate or laugh too loudly.

Blaine was a few seats away from Kurt, sat down with his class of sophomores and looking equally as amused as Kurt was. As if feeling eyes on him, the teacher turned around and caught Kurt staring at him.

Kurt wanted to be embarrassed for shamelessly people watching, but there was something in Blaine's facial expression that made him feel self-assured. He held his gaze for a moment before looking away.

One cheerleader began to recount the time she was shunned by all of her friends because she wore a side pony-tail instead of a normal one and both Kurt and Blaine made eye-contact at the same time, actually sought each other out, and rolled their eyes at her "heart-wrenching" story.

The rest of that portion of the assembly went on like that. Someone would say something stupid or offensive or completely false, and the two pessimists would look at each other and shake their heads, or make faces of disgust.

Tina was completely oblivious to Kurt and Blaine's interactions. She was too busy texting on her phone, already bored with what was happening.

"And our next speaker is…Quinn Fabray. Miss Fabray?"

For a moment everything stopped. Kurt scanned the room for Quinn; a few dozen questions in his mind. Quinn hadn't been back in school for the first few months. Even if she had, this would be the kind of thing she'd turn her nose up at; in distaste.

"Bullying? It's the natural order. It weeds out the strong from the weak." He could imagine her soft lilt of a voice in his head, cold and unaffected, brain-washed by the lure of popularity and one Sue Sylvester.

But then again, Quinn had changed after…everything. Or at least that's what he heard. Their relationship was on a superficial level. He didn't really know all that much about her. So maybe assemblies like this really _were _her thing.

The problem was the silence stretched out for too long. Quinn didn't show up to speak. Mr. Figgins called for her a few more times and then sort of shrugged. They moved on to the next segment. There was a chance someone had put her name on the roster as a cruel joke.

The couple came back onstage to start discussing prevention methods for bullying and such and Kurt felt really bitter and downright cruel for thinking: _This won't help anyone. This wouldn't have helped Jamie._

He listened though, and gave the couple his respect. He resisted the urge to turn to Blaine and watch his reaction, found it odd that he missed their conversation-that-wasn't-really-a-conversation.

The assembly, mercifully, ended when the bell rang for the next period. The Seniors and Freshmen would have to sit through it next. Kurt resisted the urge to stay back just to see if Quinn would finally make her appearance. He was actually sort of curious as to what her story would be; what she would deem worthy enough to share with the rest of them.

That curiosity lasted a total of five minutes before he found himself in the lunch room, actively wondering whether or not the corn was recycled.

* * *

Before Kurt knew it he was back in Chemistry class, and Blaine was writing something on the board as other students filed into the room. The bell rang, announcing the beginning of the period.

"Hello, hello." he said in that annoying way—now endearing, Kurt's mind added helpfully—that he had of always being cheery. "Now, I hope you all enjoyed the wonderful assembly."

Blaine continued talking to the class about the message of the assembly, scanning the class and making eye-contact with Kurt, winking briefly before his sweeping gaze continued.

Kurt's breathing pattern stuttered ever so slightly. Did he just imagine that? Or did he and Blaine just share a private moment? Like friends. Or something.

If Kurt had been really off-kilter that day he would have mistaken the fluttering happening in his chest for his stupid schoolboy crush returning with a vengeance. But of course, all he simply needed to do was remind himself that Blaine thought _chemistry was cool _and _wore bowties _and all of his feelings were gone in an instant.

* * *

By Wednesday Kurt felt like walking death. Glee practice had gotten borderline murderous due to Sectionals coming up, his stress had reached a catatonic level due to upcoming exams, and if anyone were to walk up to him and even suggest he sleep more he'd bite their head off.

He had already fallen asleep in several classes, Chemistry included. And only one of his teachers cared enough to actually reprimand him about it.

Kurt felt someone nudging him awake, and he wanted to ignore it, his confused brain forgetting he was in school and thinking it was a Saturday morning and Finn was waking him up to show him something juvenile on Youtube.

"Mmm…go away." He muttered, eyes still closed. It was then that he realized he was sitting, and his upper body was resting on a _desk._

Every synapse in Kurt's brain joined in for a resounding: _uh-oh._

It was really the laughter of the other students that gave it away. He looked up, memories rushing back to him. He had fallen asleep. In Chemistry.

He looked up to see a very disappointed Mr. Anderson shaking his head at him.

"Can you give us the _honor _of being in your conscious presence?"

And then Blaine was back in the front of the room and Kurt was feeling a little bit like a kicked puppy even though he did indeed deserve it.

Feeling a bit bad for his blatant disrespect, which was a first, he approached Blaine after the bell rang as opposed to simply walking out of the classroom. Kurt watched as Blaine continued to erase the blackboard, obviously not aware of his presence. Not knowing what else to do, Kurt cleared his throat, causing the teacher to turn around.

"I'm not in the best mood right now, Kurt." Blaine said honestly, in a way that slightly surprised Kurt. For once his voice was devoid of any sort of energy or enthusiasm. Kurt had thought that Blaine only had too settings: ecstatic and downright manic. This was…different. To say the least.

"We'll talk about this after school."

Kurt nodded, mumbling a quick "sorry" before heading out of the classroom.

* * *

Blaine felt ever-grateful to Santana, who had sent him distracting texts throughout the day such as:

**Santana: **_Your DVR is a mess. Doctor Who? Really, Blaine?_

**Santana: **_Romeo has just left the coop. Which means you are free to rendez-vous with your string of lovers now_

**Santana: **_Hey, speaking of lovers, isn't it funny that I got more dick than you in high school? _

**Santana: **_Blaaaaaineeee. Come back. Or I'm driving over there. _

**Santana: **_Brittany says hi. I can't imagine why she would want to talk to you._

**Santana: **_You are a horrible, horrible person. _

The texts were an amusing distraction, although he refused to reply to them. Santana had been staying with Blaine and his boyfriend for the past few days, and she was her usual opinionated; attention grabbing self.

**Santana: **_No wonder you're gay. You don't know how to treat a woman._

That one nearly made him laugh out loud in the teacher's lounge, and he received several weird looks from its occupants as he almost choked on the food in his mouth. The texts, for a few brief moments, helped to get him out of his slump. He found himself with a lot less patience lately, and it was a lot harder to keep up his act.

It was the end of the day and he was waiting for Kurt to arrive when his phone rang.

"I'm not doing this now." He said as a way of greeting, which resulted in angry huffing on the other end of the line.

"So when are we going to do this?"

"I don't know. But not now. I'm at _work, _Seb, and-"

Sebastian Smythe, wonderfully inept in all matters that involved manners, cut him off. "I think now is just a good as time as any."

Blaine sighed openly, feeling an oncoming headache. "Wonderful."

"Sarcasm does not suit you, dear." Sebastian quipped and Blaine rolled his eyes to the empty room. Sebastian was practically the one who _taught _him the power of sarcasm in high school.

"I already told you several times. Sam is just a friend. Honest."

"Friends don't touch each other like that." Sebastian said, and that's when Blaine _actually _laughed.

"That's not what you said that one time after lacrosse practice."

Blaine could practically hear the wheels in Sebastian's brain whirring, trying to come up with a good response to that. He was pretty damn smug with himself, if he was to be honest.

"...Weren't we friends with benefits at that point?" Sebastian settled on asking after a while, and it was the question in his voice that made Blaine feel a sudden bout of fondness.

Because the truth was during high school Sebastian had been _a lot _of things to him. He started out as a team mate and ended up being a mentor when Blaine came out; dragging him to gay bars and teaching him the terminology. Neither of them could remember when they crossed that territory from mentor and protégé into sort-of-kind-of best friends. But it happened. And like everything in life their relationship continued to evolve, continued to grow and have new elements until one day they found themselves in love.

Blaine remembered Sebastian being pissed at him, so incredibly annoyed that "such a dweeb" had "wormed a way" into his heart.

"It's because I'm tiny." Blaine remembered offering up as way of explanation.

"What?" Sebastian asked, exasperatedly. Blaine's comment had distracted him from his rant.

"Because I'm fun-sized. That's how I was able to fit. In your heart, I mean."

And Blaine would always replay the moment where Sebastian gazed at him with a mixture of irritation and adoration all at once, looked at Blaine as if he were the weirdest kid on the planet, and was obviously confused as well as proud that he learned to love someone so _odd_.

Sebastian had never said I love you. Never needed to. He simply mumbled, "Dork." before moving forward and pressing Blaine's mouth against his.

And that had been the turning point.

"I'll see you later. Love you." Blaine said into the phone, trying to end the conversation before Kurt walked into the classroom.

"Yeah, yeah." Sebastian said, and Blaine knew by now that the 'I love you' was implied.

Sure, things between them were slightly different compared to those years ago, but certain things would never change.

But seeing Kurt helped Blaine to shake off the last bits of nostalgia. He watched as Kurt took a pile of tests and an answer key and made his way to a student's desk across the room. He sighed, actually feeling slightly guilty for reprimanding the student earlier even though he totally deserved it. And even though Kurt was being a total brat, he couldn't help but indulge him.

"I'm not mad, Kurt." He said, gesturing the chair that he had already placed next to his own. "You can still sit up here. If you want."

Kurt looked up at him for a few moments before moving from the desk and taking a seat next to Blaine. Something about the fact that Kurt actually _wanted _to sit next to him gave him the vote of confidence he needed.

They graded papers in a comfortable silence for a while. This was routine; this was familiar. Being with Kurt on Wednesday afternoons had become the new normal.

They were twenty minutes into it before he heard Kurt say, "Sorry."

"You know, people fall asleep in my class all the time. I just expect more from you." Blaine explained.

"I've just been a bit busy, lately."

"It's no excuse, Kurt." Blaine said shortly, snapping a little. "Just don't fall asleep in my class again or I'll give you detention, okay? And then that means you'll have to spend your Wednesdays andThursdays cooped up in a room with me." He said, ending with a small smile to let Kurt know he wasn't too upset.

"And who would want that?" Kurt said playfully in a way that, in the wrong situation, could be interpreted as flirtatious.

Blaine dwelled on that for a moment before clearing his throat and drowning out the thought by focusing on the papers before him.


	6. Chapter 6

"_Dude_, these carolers are _amazing_." Finn said as he dragged Kurt along by his designer sleeves.

Kurt mentally groaned. Of course, the one-time his Dad let up and actually allowed him to go to the mall he was to be supervised by his oaf of a brother.

And to make it worse, everywhere he turned his line of vision was accosted with decorations and a ridiculous amount of people frantically moving about in _atrocious _holiday sweaters. Kurt swore if he heard one more horrid rendition of Jingle Bells he might faint from how underwhelmed he was.

Kurt didn't hate Christmas. Not really.

It was just not the best time of the year for him. It hadn't been in a while. And the fact that there were so many songs telling him to be _jolly _and _jovial _and _thankful _was like salt to his wounds.

But he was by no means a Scrooge. He was not the Grinch. He was simply unaffected by it all.

"Be right back. I need to go use the little boy's room." Kurt said to Finn as his brother listened to a group called the Warblers do a choir version of _Baby It's Cold Outside._

"I'll go with you." Finn said, reluctantly pulling his gaze away from the performance.

"I'm not going to fall in; if that's your concern." Kurt started to walk away. "I'll meet you back here in five minutes."

Finn looked a bit unsure, but Kurt didn't give him time to ponder it; quickly blending in along with the rest of the crowd.

He could taste it. He could touch it. And it was _his_.

_Freedom_.

He almost said hallelujah. Almost. Damn Mercedes.

He weaved his way through the crowd, eager to at least buy a new pair of skinny jeans or something. He felt his hands shaking at the prospect of getting to hold a shopping bag once more and that's when it really hit Kurt that he had a problem. But it was too late to do anything about it; he was a diehard shopaholic. And there were worse things to be in Lima. After all, he could be gay.

Oh wait.

_You are on a roll, aren't you_, Kurt thought to himself, his consciousness being a bit more self-deprecating than usual today.

It must have been all the damn Christmas lights.

Kurt approached one of his favorite boutique stores and upon seeing the front display he felt his heart racing. _Together at last_. He took a few tentative steps, appreciating every moment until he was face to face with the glass. He briefly thought about dramatically pressing his face against it and just reveling in the moment, but he quickly realized that the glass was probably filthy. Instead he simply placed each palm of his hand against it, getting as close as his self-preservation would allow and simply drinking in the sight.

There was something really beautiful about seeing something you want and being able to get it. No work; no struggle. No discrimination. Just an exchange of cash and whatever he wanted was his. And really, what was a few dollars compared to the feeling of instant gratification?

"What was wrong with the shirt?"

"It was juvenile, Blaine. Juvenile."

The name caught Kurt's attention, causing him to tear his gaze away from the display and to the exit of the store, where a very stunning woman that looked vaguely familiar was storming out with…with _Blaine _in tow.

"I think it was nice."

"You would."

Kurt wished he could see the shirt as a point of reference, but with Blaine's history of clothing options chances are it really was something hideous. But then he remembered that he was staring and quickly looked away, turning his attention back to the shop window and hoping not to be seen.

After all, he didn't want to interrupt Blaine's shopping trip with his girlfriend; who was practically supermodel gorgeous.

_Well done, Mr. Anderson_, Kurt thought to himself as he tried to walk past them as conspicuously as possible. He was almost there; almost pass them and in the store when-

"I'm checking out Macy's. Please don't buy that shirt while I'm gone."

"Yes, ma'am." Blaine said, and she nudged him playfully.

And then she was walking off and Blaine turned to head back into the store just as Kurt was sneaking into the entrance and _bam_. Kurt was spotted. It was from this experience among several others that he knew he would make a really shitty spy.

"_Kurt_?" Blaine questioned, sounding surprised—but pleasantly so, Kurt wasted no time noting.

"Hi." Kurt said meekly, hoping that it wasn't obvious he had been spying on Blaine and his girlfriend. It was weird to see his teacher outside of school. After all, they had been on Christmas vacation for only a few days and Kurt was already starting to forget what the hallways looked like.

"Hey." Blaine said, so casually as if he were running into an old friend. And Kurt appreciated that; the way he just skipped over the awkwardness and spared both of them the horrible strain of forced conversation.

"Hi." Kurt repeated, laughing a bit this time because he _just said that_ and _oh my god could he get any stupider_.

"How are you?" Blaine asked, beginning to walk into the store and looking at Kurt expectantly and that's when Kurt realized: _He wants you to follow him, idiot_.

He willed his feet to move in stride with Blaine's, thinking of a non-menial answer. "Eh."

"What does that mean?" Blaine asked, amused.

"It means 'eh'." Kurt clarified and that actually earned him a laugh. It was warm; genuine and there was even a squeak tacked on at the end that made Kurt's heart do back flips.

_Calm down_, Kurt begged the dumb organ in his chest, _why are you always doing this to me?_

"I take it Christmas isn't your thing."

"Understatement." Kurt said, wondering when Blaine was going to stop the obligatory conversation and leave. But that moment didn't come. It's as if the teacher actually _wanted _to talk to him.

"Ah, come on. It's not that bad." Blaine insisted. "There's something about Christmas that's…charming."

_You're charming, _Kurt's brain thought and Kurt had to cut it off with an: _lol how about no._

"It's charming if you're six." Kurt teased before he could stop himself. There was something that was just so effortless about talking to Blaine; that he sometimes forgot that the two of them weren't friends and he couldn't just engage in playful banter.

"That's six and a half to you, mister." Blaine countered.

Kurt's legs actually threatened to give way underneath him and he was absolutely done with himself. He was so _smitten _it was gross.

_I'm giving you ten seconds to get your act together, Hummel_, he thought to himself.

"So what about you?" Kurt heard himself saying before he could register it. "How have you been?"

Blaine was currently looking through a rack of clothes—_those are so not your color, _Kurt thought—and looking utterly stressed.

"Great, actually. Busy." Blaine said, and he turned to Kurt with one button-up in each hand. "Tell me, are these too formal for a Christmas party?"

"No, but they're too ugly." Kurt practically blurted out and continued to mentally kick himself for it. Blaine sighed and put them back and Kurt would be damned if Blaine didn't literally embody what a sad puppy would look like.

"You wouldn't mind loaning me your skills, would you?" Blaine asked, but before he even got the words out Kurt was already scanning the racks and the shelves, taking out a few shirts and handing them to Blaine.

It was his primary rule to lend his fashion knowledge to those in need of it; it was simply being a Good Samaritan.

"Try those on." Kurt said. "I'm sure your girlfriend will _love them_."

Blaine opened his mouth as if about to say something, but then shook his head to himself and sort of laughed quietly. Like he was sharing a private joke with himself.

"Thanks, Kurt. And early Merry Christmas." he said.

"Early Merry Christmas." Kurt said back, and they waved—well, Kurt waved, Blaine's hands were full—and walked their separate ways.

* * *

Blaine tried the shirts on and he had to admit they made him feel different, not in a bad way, but just in a way. They were definitely things he would not have picked out on his own, but they suited him. They gave him a sophisticated look.

Santana actually whistled.

"Sebastian will love these." She insisted, surveying him. "That is if I don't have you myself, first."

"Flattery will get you anywhere." He purred seductively and they stared at each other for a few moments before she burst out into laughter.

"Thank God he loves you." Santana said, holding her side.

"Hey! I'm totally sexy."

"When you keep your mouth shut." She reminded him. "Now let's buy these and get out of here, my legs are killing me."

"Yes, your majesty."

He dodged her attempt at punching him in the arm as they walked to join the long line at the front of the store.

'Not cool, dude.' was the text Kurt received over half an hour later as he walked out of a store wearing a new pair of sunglasses simply because he _could_.

'Sorry…' He sent back. And his phone buzzed a second later as he got a frowny-face as a reply. As he walked back to the front of the mall where he left Finn, Kurt caught a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye and turned around because he _knew _who it was by simple intuition.

And there stood Quinn, donning a white lace dress and a woolen hat, her outfit containing way too many contradictions but somehow her slight frame and upheld chin made it work; made Kurt feel as if _he _were the one who was dressed wrong.

She stood out from the crowd in the way that only Quinn Fabray could; the white contrasting considerably to the shades of green and red that surrounded them. Everyone else had somewhere to be; were frantic in their efforts to get somewhere. But she simply stood, looking around idly. Every time she caught sight of someone rushing somewhere it seemed to trigger something inside her; her face would light up in recognition. Then she'd walk a few steps forward only to stop walking again.

Like she knew she had somewhere to be but couldn't quite remember where.

"Quinn." He said, and she turned her head sharply, staring at Kurt long and hard until something clicked and she walked over.

"Hi, Kurt." Her lips were upturned into a tiny smile.

"How are you feeling?"

Most people assumed Quinn had been out of school because she was sick, and that she would be returning as soon as her condition would allow it.

"Better." Her expression seemed dazed. "I was a bit ill. But I'm better now."

"Good." He said. "Glee club misses you."

Something about what he said triggered something. The muscles in her face that upheld her smile twitched slightly, causing it to falter for a quick-second in the way that most people would have overlooked. But then it was back; bigger and so bright that it made Kurt forget it had ever been gone.

"How sweet. You tell them I'll be back after the break."

"Will do." Kurt said, starting to turn to walk away before turning back to say, "Merry-"

But she was already gone.

* * *

Blaine was surprised that he had managed to survive the holidays without actually resorting to drowning out his sorrows in spiked eggnog like he did the previous year. His parents had insisted on visiting without warning, and Santana was forced to give up the guestroom and sleep on the couch for _three days_. It also didn't help that her flight to head back to New York was delayed due to bad weather.

Therefore Santana was crankier than usual and was a complete lack of help when it came to dealing with his parents.

"What is it with all of the décor?" His father asked, examining a particular painting on the wall of a porcelain doll. "It's very odd."

"It must be a queer thing." His mother whispered to him in way of explanation.

Blaine and Sebastian overheard the whispered conversation, sharing a knowing look. His parents weren't…homophobic. Not exactly. They were just very politically incorrect people, and usually tried not to get involved in that aspect of Blaine's life. He had caught his father, on several occasions, describing Sebastian as his roommate to questioning family members.

That was partially the reason he had turned to alcohol last Christmas, because he knew if he didn't he'd accidentally end up hitting something besides a punching bag.

His mother was a small woman who always looked bigger than she was due to voluminous hair-styles and expensive mink coats. She always wore lipstick that was two shades too light, pearl earrings, and always smelled of cigarette smoke. She took tacky to another level, but there was something about the pitter-patter her heels made as she scurried across the floor that reminded Blaine of his childhood.

"Dear…I meant to ask." His mother had said on their second evening there, pulling him into a corner. "That Santana girl…is she _like you?_"

Blaine squinted at his mother, perfectly aware of what she was trying to say but feigning confusion just to make her _say it_.

"You know…" she lowered her voice drastically. "…_gay_."

"Of course not." Blaine answered. "She just enjoys scissoring other girls, no big deal."

The look on his mother's face was priceless; her mouth frozen into a comical 'o'. She stood like that as Blaine walked away, snickering. Sometimes he couldn't help himself when he messed with his parents. He fully admitted to himself that he could be a very spiteful person. Because he couldn't help but wonder why it was so easy for them to be there for him _now _when they were absent in his life when he needed it the most.

He remembered coming out to his Dad. He did it very suddenly; over the dinner table. His mom was away at some resort at the time; which she did a lot whenever she got into an argument with his Dad.

"I'm gay."

And his dad _kept eating_. He had ignored him as if he didn't say anything. Blaine could feel his hands getting clammy, and his throat starting to close up. Maybe he hadn't heard? He swallowed nervously before trying again.

"Dad?" His father looked up.

His Dad stared at him for a few more moments before looking down at his food again. Blaine saw it now; the way the hand holding the fork was shaking a bit. His Dad definitely heard him.

Blaine's father was of a medium build, tall in a way that Blaine would never be. He was balding slightly, no doubt due to stress. Running a multi-million dollar corporation did that to a guy. And Blaine had been so thankful that he took after his mother because as much as he hated his hair he would hate it even more if he started losing some of it.

"Dad?" Blaine tried again, this time a little quieter; wishing he would _say something_.

But his father continued to ignore him and they ate in silence and Blaine went upstairs and cried for a bit before calling Santana and telling her about it. She told him that it could have been worse; it could have been way worse and he nodded and sniffled and agreed. He'd heard terrifying stories about kids getting kicked out of their houses and being beaten and Blaine had decided that he was _lucky_. Even if he didn't feel that way sometimes he was extremely lucky.

That next morning his Dad talked to him as if nothing happened, and Blaine never brought up his sexual orientation again for a full year.

Which is why Blaine was so grateful. Because as imperfect as his parents are they've come a long way from where they started, and they had learned to accept Blaine's identity, even if they didn't exactly like or understand it.

He rolled his eyes when his Dad pulled Sebastian to the side and started talking law with him.

"You sure you don't want to come work for me?" his Dad kept asking him. "We could use more people who know their way around a courtroom."

Sebastian smiled charmingly. "As much as I appreciate the _repeated _offer; I couldn't possibly leave my current job."

Blaine knew that better than anyone. Why the hell else would someone like Sebastian Smythe be stationed in a place like _Ohio _if it weren't for actually attaining his dream job.

"How much are they paying you, kid?" The older Anderson asked, putting an arm around Sebastian's shoulder and pulling him close. "I'll _double _it. Hell, I'll _triple _it."

Sebastian turned around, making eye-contact with Blaine and mouthing 'help me'.

Blaine laughed, deciding he was going to break out the booze after all.

Everything went so smoothly for the past two days that Blaine was certain they were due for a screw-up of some sort. But then they had made it to the night of the third day and he had naively convinced himself that _maybe _he had escaped it this time.

But as he bit into the pot roast his mom insisted on preparing his Dad posed the question. "So, have you gotten a real job yet?"

Blaine knew this argument. It happened every single time his parents visited. They both held such high-esteem for Sebastian the lawyer and wondered why their son hadn't aspired to something just as respectable. Blaine knew that picking on his job was an outlet; a way to keep them from commenting on his sexuality instead. But it still kind of hurt.

"We both know that teaching isn't going to cut it. It would help if he actually had a useful degree, too."

Sebastian chuckled like it was some kind of joke until Santana shot him a look that made him stop.

"I get a paycheck, don't I? So it qualifies as a real job." Blaine explained, trying his best to keep his patience.

"You know who else gets paychecks?" His mother chimed in as she began to fold her napkin into a neat square. "Dentists. And we all know that's a made-up profession. Why, I haven't gone to the dentist a day in my life and my oral hygiene is _impeccable_."

"They've got a point." Sebastian piped up.

Blaine and Sebastian had that argument in private several times. The job at McKinley was supposed to be temporary; just until Blaine could get back on his feet and find a different job. But then weeks had gone by, which turned to months and before they knew it two years.

Sebastian had always given Blaine the option of quitting the job; of returning back to school and getting a different degree. But he had already felt borderline useless as it was, and being unemployed would serve to do nothing but make him feel worse. After all, everything that belonged to the two of them really came out of Sebastian's pocket; had the Smythe name stamped on it.

Not that Blaine wasn't grateful. It was just…different. He didn't really picture his life panning out that way.

As he sat at the table and listened to Sebastian and his parents talk about him as if he wasn't even there, he could actually feel the oncoming migraine. He excused himself from the table, ignoring the people asking him to stay and running up to the bathroom, taking an aspirin before returning. He shouldered through the dinner as best as he could, trying his best not to let Santana's sympathetic gaze make him feel sorry for himself.

* * *

Sebastian was really getting on his bad side lately. This was his second transgression; the first being when he shamelessly flirted with the help at their Christmas party earlier that week.

That night, as Blaine got ready for bed he heard their bedroom door opening, and then entered Sebastian. His facial expression best being described as remorseful. Blaine glared at him, trying to be harsh and _stand his ground _this time, but he had always been a bit of a push-over. He allowed Sebastian to press close to him; to press light kisses along his jaw; to whisper "I'm sorry." over and over and over until he was almost believed.

"I'm upset with you." Blaine said, but his voice sounded more unsure than he felt.

"I know." Sebastian answered. "Just…let's not fight, alright?"

But Blaine didn't want to push this aside like he did all of the other times. He didn't want to forget that he was upset. And it was when Sebastian pressed a kiss to his lips that gave him the power to push him away.

"No. We're going to _talk _about this." Blaine insisted and Sebastian simply laughed it off, getting closer again and pressing Blaine against the wall.

"I'm not a big fan of talking." Sebastian whispered against his lips, close in a way that was completely distracting.

And Blaine struggled to remember that he was _upset _and _not in the mood _and _did not want this._

"Sebastian…" He pleaded, and was not surprised when he was ignored. He was used to people disregarding him.

"Just…let me take care of you." And so Blaine did not protest as he was led from the wall to their bed.

* * *

Kurt swore that the next time someone asked him how his Christmas went he wouldn't even humor them with a response. After the holiday he had—his Aunt Mildred had visited and after hearing he was in show choir insisted that he and Finn sing various show tunes—he was actually glad to be back in school; thankful for the new year even though he knew he would give up on his resolutions by the second week.

As if the universe were trying to tell him something; he had returned to school on a Wednesday. He was sure that was the sign for one of two things: either the universe was telling him that it was okay for him to be _infatuated _with Blaine, or saying 'haha we'll humor you; you crazy bitch'. Either way he'd take it.

He didn't take too much stock into it; however. The last time Kurt crushed on someone this hard they ended up becoming his step brother.

Plus, this Wednesday was the last one before report cards came out. So maybe the universe was delivering a different message altogether.

Either way he had trouble hiding his skip as he and Mercedes headed to the east wing of the school, and he was fully aware that he was a few moments from seeing Blaine.

"Someone's happy." Mercedes noted.

"Never. You know I'm allergic to happiness."

"Right." She responded in that infuriating voice that stated she knew more than she was letting on.

He didn't even bother to get into it with her, instead walking into Chemistry and greeting Blaine warmly.

"Hi. You can grab your goggles and an apron, Mike already started setting up your table." Blaine responded, dismissing any option for further conversation. Kurt shrugged, figuring he could simply talk to him later.

Kurt actually got the experiment for once, which was a first. He wasn't sure if it was increased interest in the subject, or increased interest in the man teaching the subject but he really didn't want to spend too much time thinking about it.

* * *

After school Kurt packed up and headed back to the Chemistry class, and would never admit to walking at a faster pace than usual. He discovered the class was empty.

"Mr. Anderson?" Kurt called out to the empty room.

"I'll be out in a second!" He heard a muffled voice call from the supply closet. He waited a few moments before Blaine emerged, looking a bit worn for wear. His eyes were clearly red and slightly puffy, and it was with a terrifying certainty that Kurt realized he had been _crying_.

And that was more than weird. Teachers don't cry. They yelled a shit-ton and they sometimes smiled but they never _cried_.

"Hey, Kurt. More freshmen tests today; I'm afraid." Blaine seemed to catch Kurt's look of concern. "Dust allergy." he explained, brushing some remaining dust from his shoulder to emphasize his point.

Kurt didn't believe him for a moment but decided not to question it as he took his usual seat next to Blaine and started to grade the first test. On impulse he began to speak, surprised at his own words. "I know you think I'm just some dumb kid, but I can tell when I'm being lied to."

Blaine paused, looking at Kurt in a way that was almost determined. "I don't think you're just some dumb kid." He said, genuinely. "And it's nothing to worry about. But thank you."

And Kurt knew there was more to it than that but he figured he had already overstepped enough for one afternoon, resigning himself to silence.

Blaine's phone buzzed after a while of silence, and Kurt watched as his teacher frowned down at it, typing out a reply. Then a few moments later it rang. "I'll be just a moment." And he answered it, walking into the supply closet to probably avoid being overheard.

But Kurt had amazing hearing due to his inner gossip whore, and managed to catch a few pieces of conversation.

"I'm with a student right now…I'm busy I can't just lea- Alright. Alright, just calm down. I'm coming home now." And then he walked back into the room and Kurt tried his best to gaze intently at the papers in front of him to avoid suspicion.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to call it a night, Kurt. I'll get these marked another time. Thank you, though." Blaine said.

"Alright." he stacked his papers up, feeling a tad bit upset that their last meeting was getting cut short. It wasn't like Kurt would really need extra credit anymore after grades came out, but he almost thought about failing again on purpose; just to continue this.

So it was with a great shock when Blaine said, "Same time next week?"

"What?" Kurt asked.

"Your Dad didn't tell you? He wants me to start tutoring you. You know, to avoid the same disaster happening next marking period." Blaine said.

"Oh." was all Kurt said, thinking: _Yay for good parenting_. "Maybe you can finally explain to me what the hell an isotope is." He said as he got his bag and headed out of the door.

Blaine chuckled as he followed Kurt out. "Don't worry; I'll make everything clear for you." He said, flicking the lights off and locking the door behind them.


	7. Chapter 7

"When's your birthday?" Blaine asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

"I turned seventeen last Friday." Kurt answered distractedly, typing numbers into a calculator and trying to figure out something. Possibly how many more minutes he would be stuck in the classroom.

Blaine frowned a bit. That was only five days ago. And what's more, Kurt didn't even say anything about it. That Friday had been a completely average day. One would think someone like Kurt would have worn a special outfit that day, or carried around balloons, hell, the least the kid could have done was _smile_.

It was then that he realized that for one reason or another Kurt had his birthday removed from the system.

"It didn't show up on my computer." Blaine said out loud, hoping for some explanation.

"I like to avoid the extra attention." Kurt explained, and that seemed so unusual until he really thought it over.

"What happened?" He asked, because he knew there was always a story behind everything his student did; a reason. Although Kurt seemed eccentric and reliably mad, there was something about him that was more realistic than most people Blaine had met.

He wasn't accustomed to people being so resolute at such a young age.

"Birthday punches." Kurt explained, and Blaine somehow doubted he was talking about the playful kind. It was upon the mention of physical violence that it finally struck Blaine how _small _Kurt was. His mind became flooded with thoughts of the student; helpless and _hurting _and he immediately cut off that train of thought. Because it made him feel angry, irrationally so.

"That doesn't happen often, does it?" Blaine asked.

"Of course not. My birthday only comes once a year."

Blaine smiled, shaking his head. He understood by now that Kurt deflected better than anyone he knew. "You know what I meant."

"No." Kurt responded, now filling out the worksheet in front of him with a new-found focus. As if to let Blaine know to stop digging; to quit prodding. He always had a way of shutting Blaine out whenever the teacher began to question things. As if Blaine wouldn't like what he found out.

Or maybe he was simply concentrating on his worksheet. Blaine had a history with blowing things out of proportion.

But as he watched Kurt's interest increase in chemistry, subsequently decreasing in the conversation, Blaine got the feeling that he wasn't overreacting. That he was having one of his rare moments of being highly intuitive as opposed to being oblivious to things even if they were stapled to his forehead.

"You know that's ignorance, right?" Blaine piped up after a while, not feeling happy with the way things were left. "They don't have anything against _you_, they just-"

"Fear what they don't understand?" Kurt finished. He probably has gotten this speech ten times over and that just because it came out of his mouth didn't mean it would make anything better. "They don't seem too terrified of me."

Blaine agreed. The explanation was indeed bullshit. But it was what he received time and time again in school, and it was the only one available. Because the only alternative was for people to admit to themselves that their children were capable of hate.

And it didn't help that Kurt was the only out gay kid in the school and in their lovely democratic society _majority ruled_. So it was easier to excuse the bullies than to help the victim.

Blaine couldn't even begin to imagine what that would be like. In his high school there had been a GSA; a whole club dedicated to helping people like him find support.

_Lucky, _Blaine reminded himself. _I was so lucky_.

He wanted to be there for Kurt the way his friends had been there for him. But he was sure that was crossing some line, and plus, who said Kurt even wanted his help? He definitely wasn't some damsel in distress; Blaine had been on the receiving end of one of his witty comebacks several times.

"Maybe if you tell them it's contagious." Blaine suggested a full ten minutes later and that actually got Kurt to look up at him in confusion for a few moments before remembering what they were talking about and _laughing_. Not bitter or nervous or marred by any imperfections, but just pure unaltered laughter that made Blaine's heart swell with pride because _he _had done that. And he couldn't help but think that Kurt should laugh more around him, because he practically glowed.

"I haven't heard that one before." Kurt said after a while, shoulders visibly relaxing; tension leaving him in an instant. "I can't _wait _to get out of this place."

And the way he said it sounded like he wasn't just _running_; not like Blaine did. It seemed like Kurt had somewhere very specific in mind to go.

"Ah, come on. These are the best years of your life." Blaine said, sarcasm rampant.

"…Then I am so screwed."

And then the two of them were laughing and _there _it was again. That feeling in Blaine's chest that he didn't know the words to describe because he sucked at being poetic but it made him feel lighter than before. Like he had nowhere to be; no obligations or worries or much of anything.

It was like a reminder that said stop worrying about the future_._ We're here now. We're here.

And Kurt's hand laid there so open and Blaine wondered what would be the consequences of reaching across and taking it. He wondered if the skin there felt as soft as it looked.

And that's when the moment ended; that's when he came crashing back down from what could only be described as temporary madness. He cleared his throat, picked up the textbook that sat abandoned on his desk, and got back to his explanation of balancing equations.

And just like that Blaine dismissed that train of thought.

* * *

Kurt watched as Quinn walked into the choir room for the first time in weeks. She wore an olive green turtleneck; oversized in a way that served to make her look even more fragile; like knocking into her would result in her fracturing a femur. She stood light on her feet, as if she couldn't quite remember how she got to there, and was ready to leave as soon as she could recall where she needed to be.

It resembled the way restless children stood at places like hospitals or dentist's offices. Because they didn't arrive there of their own accord, but were toted along by someone else.

Somehow the image of strong, stoic Quinn being led along like a small child was more unsettling than it should have been.

"Welcome back, Quinn." Mr. Schuester said with a warm smile. "Now, back to business. I know you guys are excited because you won Sectionals, but I don't want you guys to get too comfortable. Regionals are fast approaching, and I have an assignment to get your creative juices flowing."

Tina and Kurt wore identical expressions of annoyance verging on suicidal.

"I want you guys to pair up and do another duet. Now, we all have a pretty good idea of whose voices have chemistry." As he explained people were already looking to their respective partners. "_But _in order to challenge yourselves I'd like you to pair up with someone you've never worked with before."

There was a collective groan. Kurt and Mercedes looked at each other with longing before quickly moving on to find someone else.

Kurt began to mentally tally all the people he sung with at some point. Rachel. _Shit. _Finn. _Fuck. _

_I can work with Tina, _he thought, but watched with weariness as she paired up with Puck. _That horrid bitch_.

_Maybe Artie and I can-_but Rachel had already snatched Artie from him. Eventually everyone was paired up but Kurt still didn't have a partner. Were there an odd number of people in the club?

"I think that's everyone." Mr. Schuester declared when all of a sudden Quinn stood up.

"I don't have a partner."

"Me neither." Kurt said.

"Well, that settles it." Their teacher declared. "You two are partners. Now, I'll give you guys a few weeks to come up with something. In the mean-time, I wanted to talk to you guys about-"

But Kurt had already tuned him out, instead opting to start trying to figure out how the hell he was going to get Quinn's soft voice to work with his over-the-top style of performance.

After the meeting was over and everyone was getting ready to go home Kurt felt a light tapping on his shoulder. He turned around to see his new partner.

"We lucked out, didn't we?" she said companionably. "It could have been much worse."

"True." he admitted, shivering at the thought of having to sing with Zises or Puck. "So..."

"I'm available on Mondays through Thursdays after school." She said helpfully. "Does that work for you?"

"Wednesdays I have tutoring." He chose to ignore how she quirked her perfectly shaped eyebrow in curiosity.

They talked a bit more, exchanging numbers and promising to call each other for further planning as soon as possible. Kurt already had a few songs in mind already but he has learned through trial and error that sometimes it's best not to bombard people with his ideas and enthusiasm.

* * *

When Blaine got home he saw Sebastian's car already parked in the driveway. As he walked into the living room he saw exactly what he expected: Sebastian lying out on the couch, still in his work attire except his tie was loosened and his jacket was draped over the back of the couch. The table had empty bottles of liquor strewn across it. Playing on the television screen was a French movie, a favorite from Sebastian's childhood. He always turned to it when he was feeling distressed. Blaine briefly wondered if maybe the nightmares were coming back.

Sebastian didn't seem to hear him arrive; too busy mumbling something in french. Normally Blaine would be amused at the spectacle, but it all it did was confirm his suspicions that the lawyer was absolutely drunk out of his mind.

Not feeling up to dealing with the set of problems that usually came with Sebastian being intoxicated; he grabbed his messenger bag off of the floor and snuck past his boyfriend, heading up the steps to their room and locking the door behind him.

About half an hour later as Blaine sat at his computer, typing a letter to the school board requesting the funds to purchase new lab instruments when he heard the tell-tale creaks of the stairs. It took five minutes before those creaks turned to bangs on the door.

"Blaine?" Sebastian's voice called out to him with a false sense of calm. "Open the door, please."

Blaine had learned time and time again that to do that would be a horrible idea, so he ignored Sebastian, even as the knocks grew more violent and his voice grew harsher with the an irrational drunken rage.

He didn't even flinch as Sebastian rattled the door-handle, seeming desperate to get in.

"Blaine, open the goddamn door." he practically barked out. Which eventually turned into:

"I'm giving you five seconds to open the fucking door." Which led up to the usual:

"You know what you are? You're _ungrateful_. Do you know how much I sacrifice? So you can go to that stupid school and play Einstein every day?"He H

"Einstein was physics." Blaine called out because he really couldn't resist.

He heard Sebastian laugh behind the door but it wasn't warm or welcoming.

"Aren't you a smartass?" He said menacingly. "Let's see how much you have to say when I break this door down."

_He doesn't mean it. _Blaine had to remind himself, _He's not himself right now._

"Go for it." Blaine challenged, sounding a lot calmer than he felt.

It went on for fifteen more minutes. A constant banging on the door and more yelling and hurtful words that really meant _nothing_. Because it wasn't Sebastian speaking, but the hateful monster inside of him that was only awoken whenever a drop of alcohol hit his tongue.

It took Blaine three years before he even realized Sebastian had a problem. And by that time he was too in love to even care. Because isn't that what love is? Putting up with each other's flaws?

That's what Blaine told himself as the banging eventually quieted down and stopped altogether, indicating that Sebastian was either tired or bored and had moved on to something else. Or maybe he was being quiet; waiting for Blaine to open the door. There was no way in hell Blaine would fall for that twice, so he stayed put until he heard the tell-tale creak of the stairs.

* * *

"So what did I get on the last quiz?" Kurt asked impatiently, leaning over the desk to get a glimpse of the computer screen where the online grade book was open. "I got a _C_?"

Blaine sighed, looking up at Kurt's less than pleased expression. "Good afternoon to you too."

"How did I get a _C_? I know definitions; we went over those."

Blaine had already put on his reading glasses, pulled open a folder, and flipped through papers until he got to Kurt's. He cleared his throat and began to read out loud from it. "Protons and electrons are basically like Troy and Gabriella from High School Musical. They're different but they always get together in the end." He looked up at Kurt with an unimpressed expression.

Kurt stared back at him blankly. "I don't see the issue."

_You have got to be kidding me, _Blaine thought.

"Kurt," he started, lowering his glasses. "This is a _science _class. _Science_. You're not writing for some pre-teen magazine."

"That was a perfectly decent explanation!" Kurt insisted. "You just hate me."

"_Kurt."_ He repeated, this time in his warning tone. "I'm not changing the grade. Maybe if you use _big boy _words next time I'll consider giving you an A."

Kurt looked like he was about to say something, but chose to hold his tongue. He simply crossed his arms and practically stormed out of the classroom.

_I am never having kids, _Blaine thought, but then all of a sudden Kurt stormed back into the room.

"And for the record," He started, looking Blaine up and down with utter disdain. "Bowties are out of fashion."

Blaine blinked; absolutely shocked. He briefly considered retorting, but then was hit with the image of him and the student sitting in a classroom and trading insults and he couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?" Kurt said, his displeased glare faltering slightly.

"You." Blaine answered and the absolutely indignant look on Kurt's face made him laugh even harder.

Kurt looked genuinely confused as to what to do in this situation, so he simply continued to glare at Blaine until he was done laughing. "I'm glad one of us finds this amusing."

Blaine was still grinning; this kid was absolutely nuts. "I'll let you retake it next Wednesday, okay?"

"Deal." Kurt said, as if he were doing _Blaine _some sort of favor instead of it being the other way around. "And…I guess the bowties aren't _that _bad."

Blaine shook his head to himself. "Duly noted. Have a good day, Hummel."

"You too." Kurt said, heading out of the classroom where a blonde girl waited for him.

And it was upon his absence that it dawned on Blaine that he was actually looking forward to Wednesday.


	8. Chapter 8

Kurt knew it was approaching because his favorite stores began to advertise sales. All of a sudden the commercials on the radio all had a _theme _and nearly every song being played had a central message. If both of his hands hadn't been on the steering wheel he would have changed the radio station for the umpteenth time.

"I'm guessing you're not in a festive mood." Quinn remarked, talking for the first time since she sat in his passenger's seat.

"Valentine's Day is _not _a holiday." He argued.

"Then what is it?"

"A business scheme conjured up by Hallmark."

He briefly considered just going into isolation for a few days; just until the post-Valentine's day feelings wore off and he could pretend like it never happened. But there were reminders _everywhere_. Even all the movies on HBO had something to do with true love or romance.

Not that Kurt wasn't a fan of romance. Quite the opposite, actually. But the only kind of romance he knew were the ones in musicals, but after that left the stage everything seemed less magical and real. All of a sudden the stage was reality and real life was contrived.

So basically, Valentine's Day was just the largest pot of bullshit to him.

And as he and Quinn drove to the music store he really hoped for her sake that she would not suggest they sing a _love song _for their assignment. Because that would probably be his breaking point.

"So did you have any songs in mind?" She asked as they pulled up in the parking lot to the store.

"No." He lied. "Did you?"

"Not really." She said, and he was just about to let out a sigh of relief until, "But I think we should sing a ballad."

And pretty much every single song Kurt had in mind went out of the window. But he wanted to be _fair_. He had to work _with _her, not against her. "Any reason why?"

"Because you're at your best when you sing ballads." Kurt _begged to fucking differ _but he kept that to himself. "Plus the simpler we go the more time we'll have to focus on our voices as opposed to blocking."

He begrudgingly admitted that she did have a point. They got into the store and decided that it would be best to divide and conquer, splitting up and perusing through different sections of the store.

"Excuse me?"

Kurt continued to look through the songbook, thinking he was imagining the voice.

"Excuse me?" Kurt sighed, looking up and _oh wow okay_.

"I just wanted to say I love that broach." said the guy—_attractive guy, _Kurt noted—and he was trying to decide whether he was trying to make fun of him or not when he noticed what the guy was wearing and a little _ding _went off in his head like whenever food was done in the microwave and all he could think was Gay with a capital G.

_What do I say to him? Do I say thank you? Is that what people do?_

"Uh…." _Good going Kurt. You're really a smooth criminal, _he thought. "I mean…um…thanks."

_Don't even look at him loser; just bury your head in the sheet music, _Kurt thought, looking down and waiting for the attractive Gay guy to walk away along with all his hopes and dreams. He'd been so out of practice—never _had _practice, really—that he couldn't even talk to a guy without making an absolute idiot of himself.

"You look familiar." The guy continued and _oh my god you didn't scare him off yet. You tiger. _"Are you…were you...didn't you perform at Sectionals recently? The New Directions, right?"

"Yes, actually." Kurt was now slightly suspicious. "How do you…?"

"Chandler Dystra." He said, extending his hand. "I'm Candace Dystra's brother."

Kurt was apologetically clueless so Chandler elaborated. "She was the fifth runner-up for Ms. Ohio 2006? She also judged Sectionals."

"You're _her _brother?" Kurt took his hand and shook it. Candace was actually a bit ditsy; Kurt hoped it didn't run in the family.

They talked for a bit more, and Kurt actually managed to have a decent conversation without saying something stupid or referencing Mean Girls. Fifteen minutes into the conversation and he saw Quinn approaching with two song books in hand.

"I have to go." Kurt said regrettably, picking up the book he was looking at. "It was nice talking to you."

"You too." Chandler said, starting to walk away before turning back and laughing nervously. "I know we just met but…can I have your number?"

Kurt dropped the book, and his mouth hung open before his common sense kicked in and he closed it. Someone was asking for _his _number. He briefly wondered if he was still sleeping in bed, and this was his mind's way of helping him cope with the impending doom that was Valentine's Day.

"Sorry…too straightforward?" Chandler asked, grinning sheepishly.

"I….I mean, not really. No. Um…numbers. That sounds good. Okay." _Jesus do you even know English?_

"Awesome." Chandler said, taking Kurt's proffered phone and putting his number in. "Text me?"

It took until he and Quinn had already been driving for five minutes until it what happened _really _sunk in. He really couldn't help it when a giddy laugh escaped. He could practically feel Quinn staring at him.

"You're in a better mood." she noted, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"I got tired of pouting." He said. "Who wants frown lines, right?"

She smiled as if to prove his point. "Right."

* * *

"I am _so lame_. When did I get so lame?" Blaine asked, running a hand through his un-gelled hair in frustration.

"Haven't you been that way since conception?" Santana answered, using her time between takes to find a quiet corner of the set and talk to Blaine about his relationship problems.

Blaine was still trying to come up with creative things to do for Valentine's Day and every single one of his ideas were shot down instantly. Personally, he thought a picnic was completely romantic but Santana thought it was too old school.

"How about an aquarium? Sea life is pretty fascinating. Did you know-"

"I'm gonna have to stop you before you embarrass yourself." She said. "Doesn't Romeo take you to some fancy restaurant every year?"

"Exactly. _Every year_. I need to switch things up. I read somewhere that-"

"_That's _your problem." she said. "You read too much. I don't read and I have a perfectly fulfilled life."

He had to laugh. It wasn't like everybody could just wake up one morning and move their whole life to New York and become a model and actress like she did. It was practically overnight. One day she said goodbye and the next she was on huge billboards in Manhattan.

"So what should I do?" He asked.

"Stop worrying. Watch some TV. Or porn." He heard some voice yelling cues in the background. "I have to go. This is it. The big break-up scene. Wish me luck."

"Like you need it."

And then she was gone and he was back to square one. It took a good fifteen minutes of sitting their scheming before the idea occurred to him with a resounding _duh_.

'What do you want to do for Valentine's Day?' He hit send and felt immensely proud of his critical thinking skills.

* * *

The only thing worse than being single when Valentine's Day was approaching was being single _and _constantly sought out for relationship advice, which really didn't make sense the more Kurt thought about it. But if making sense was a qualification for things to exist than his life would be a completely different story.

As he helped Finn pick out his outfit for Thursday; the day his brother and Rachel were going off on some romantic escapade, he briefly considered starting a business for this kind of thing. He could even have his own reality TV show on Bravo. He tucked the idea away in his mind as plan C.

His phone rang so he excused himself—"Make sure you iron that shirt, Finn! You'll look like a prune if you don't."—and answered it.

"Are we still on for our movie night?" He asked.

"About that…" Mercedes started, sounding guilty. "I have a date."

He actually started laughing. "Good one. Now seriously, help me decide between Dreamgirls and Grease. We won't have time to watch both so-"

"I wasn't joking." Mercedes said and Kurt actually had to stop speaking and pacing and _everything _because this was not happening. "I know it's short notice and I hate to bail on-"

"It's fine." He said, because he didn't think he'd be able to stand it if she started to pity him.

They talked more and she gushed about how Sam asked her out and he laughed and awww'd at all the right places even though with each passing minute he was feeling more and more unwanted.

There was Chandler. And Chandler was nice. But it was just _texting _and it's not like Chandler knew enough about Kurt to actually like him.

Not that he minded being single. He actually preferred it. But still, it sucked on days like this when he was reminded how single he really was.

He briefly wondered if he would be single forever. If he would be _that _friend. At weddings and parties sitting in the corner and waiting for their turn. He supposed it wouldn't be _too _bad. He'd never have to compromise with someone. Or share things.

"Kurt, did you say the red tie or the blue one?" Finn called from his room.

And Kurt rushed to go help him because he rather keep busy than dwell on things that hadn't even happened yet.

* * *

Blaine and Sebastian were going to go _ice-skating_. It was admittedly juvenile; something teenagers did on a first date. But Sebastian was head over heels for the idea. Blaine didn't want to brag, but he was pretty sure he was the smoothest operator in Lima and no one could convince him otherwise.

He just needed to finish grading papers and he would be out of the building.

He was so preoccupied with his plans that he forgot that Kurt was supposed to be stopping by to see him after school until the student stood in the doorway.

"You don't have to be stuck with me today, Kurt." He said as a way of dismissal. He was feeling festive and generous, and he knew that if it were the day before Valentine's Day and he had a say in it the last thing he would want to do was focus on Chemistry.

"Why not? Chemistry's fun…ish." Kurt said and Blaine had to roll his eyes fondly. "Plus, it's not like I have anything better to do."

"No plans?" Blaine asked rather insensitively, and then felt like hitting himself for it.

"No. It's not like I have some dreamy boyfriend from another school. Despite the rumors…that I may or may not have started." Kurt said, but he didn't seem as devastated about it as he should have been.

"Really? I'm shocked." Blaine said, because he really was.

"Which is why…" Kurt started dramatically, before pulling a small stuffed animal from behind his back. "Will you be my Valentine?"

Blaine stared from the downright _adorable _plush puppy to the downright _adorable _student that was presenting it to him and he couldn't control the dopey grin that spread across his face. He had gotten several gifts from his students in the past—mostly girls that had misguided crushes on him—but _everything _was about presentation and when it came to that Kurt definitely had style. He accepted the stuffed animal and set it on his desk right next to his pocket-sized thesaurus.

"On a strictly platonic level, of course." Kurt added as an afterthought. "I wouldn't want your girlfriend to get jealous." He joked.

For some reason Kurt saying that annoyed the hell out of him. Not that Kurt had any reason to assume otherwise, considering Blaine had never corrected him the multiple other times he mentioned it. But there was something about Kurt not knowing the truth that cheapened the moment, and before he could stop himself he was putting things straight.

"Boyfriend."

"What?"

"You hope my _boyfriend _doesn't get jealous."

They looked at each other in a charged silence; and Kurt's face slowly turned from shocked to accepting as he processed the information. "Oh." Then under his breath: "Fucking Rachel."

"_Language._" Blaine said half-heartedly but he was too busy laughing to be stern and Kurt was insisting that he said _freaking _and that Blaine needed to get his hearing checked.

Blaine gave Kurt his remake quiz, and Kurt took his place at a student desk and started to work on it. As he began to grade projects for his freshmen class his mind began to wander at what the hell he was going to wear to go ice-skating until he heard Kurt speaking.

"Is that who Seb is?"

Blaine nearly choked on nothing; absolutely startled that one of his students knew that name. "How…"

"You talk to him on the phone a lot." Kurt neglected to mention that most of the time when they talked they were arguing, but quietly in the way that Kurt wasn't supposed to hear.

Blaine read the look on Kurt's face. "Yeah…he's difficult sometimes." He laughed nervously.

Kurt knew that laugh. It was the laugh all adults mastered down to a T; it was the "don't worry" laugh; it was the "I'm fine" laugh. It was the laugh that surfaced only when people weren't telling the complete truth.

And Blaine really did feel bad. He knew Kurt could tell he was lying, and over the past few weeks had grown to think of Kurt as at least a friend. And even though it was inappropriate; completely unprofessional, he had grown comfortable around Kurt and thought him responsible enough to handle being told the truth. "We're just going through a rough patch. He's hard to talk to, sometimes."

And it felt so good to be _honest _for once; to have someone to talk to. He couldn't even tell Santana about everything. Her life was perfect, and his wasn't. He didn't need her knowing that.

"You have me." Kurt said as if reading Blaine's mind, but he said it in a tone that implied he was joking. Because the idea of teacher confiding in student? It really can't be taken seriously, can it?

So Blaine laughed, because that's what you do when someone tells a joke. "Thanks, but I can't exactly go home to you. I only have you on Wednesday afternoons."

Kurt huffed indignantly in a way that was comical, returning to the work in front of him. And Blaine didn't want to offend him, so he added. "Not that I'd mind it. But I can't see you being single in five years."

And Kurt thought Chandler had helped him get over his stupid crush but he couldn't deny that Blaine's statement stung a little. And that it had no right to. Because things shouldn't hurt if they don't matter.

"True. Your loss." Kurt said, trying to sound indifferent but his voice cracked.

And it's not like Blaine didn't notice. But the teacher simply thought he imagined it. The rest of that afternoon their conversation was strictly limited to chemistry, and they both had to pretend as if he didn't mind.

* * *

Kurt had devoured his third piece of cheesecake and by that time the cake was a quarter done so he might as well just have the rest of it.

_Go hard or go home, _he thought as he took a bite of another slice and wondered on a scale of one to loser how much he was going to hate himself in the morning. On his television screen was a re-run of some corny scary movie that he had caught somewhere in the middle, but the idea of people getting chopped up and being unhappy just seemed really nice.

_At least I'm not that guy, _Kurt thought as some dude got chased through the trees by some weird inbred monster.

"Bud?" He heard his dad rapt softly on the door. "Carole and I are heading out now. Call me if you need anything, don't answer the doors, and remember…we love you."

_Oh my god, _was all Kurt thought, too embarrassed to even form a coherent thought. Even his _Dad _had somewhere to be on Valentine's Day, leaving him alone in the whole freaking universe. But of course, that was okay. Because they _loved _him.

"Have fun. And don't do anything I wouldn't do." Kurt responded, to which his father laughed at before heading down the stairs to what was sure to be a night more adventurous than Kurt's.

He sat in his room until the movie ended, and despite the terrible effects and subpar storyline it did succeed at scaring the crap out of him.

So now he was scared and home alone, which combined with his already overactive imagination made for a very miserable time. He kept thinking if maybe he stayed under the covers then no one could hurt him but then he needed to _pee _and it was a choice between his life or pissing his bed. He seriously considered the latter but then decided that even if he did survive the night being a seventeen year old bed-wetter who was single on Valentine's Day would be the final push he needed to kill himself.

Kurt counted to three and ran to the bathroom across the hall, not even looking over his shoulders because every single motherfucker who did that in every single scary movie ended up tripping on something and _dying_.

_Not today_, he thought when he made it to the bathroom and locked the doors behind him.

And it wasn't until he was washing his hands that he realized how stupid he was being and he had to look at his pathetic reflection in the mirror and just _laugh_. And then he seemed totally nuts by that point so with nothing to lose he figured he might as well get all the crying out now so he didn't bother anyone with it when they got home.

And it went on like that for some while, because at first Kurt was crying just because he _could _but then his mind started flooding with every single unfair situation in his life and all of a sudden it was no longer about being alone on Valentine's Day, but it was about just being alone. In every single possible way. And the thought of it consumed him; the thought of everyone leaving him because he wasn't good enough. And maybe he was delirious but in that dark hour of the night that thought seemed alarmingly real.

He looked at himself in the mirror; his eyes all red and puffy and his face streaked with tears and all he could think was:

God, _stop feeling sorry for yourself. _

And so he washed his face and went to sleep and figured he'd just wake up and pretend that whole ordeal never happened.

* * *

Blaine's Valentine's Day was so sweet it was unsettling. And charming. And just downright movie worthy. As the two stumbled to Sebastian's car; drunk off of nothing but simple joy Blaine couldn't help but think that maybe this was it. Maybe this was the moment their relationship would get back on track. They'd go back to the beginning when they were two bright eyed teenagers who despite their terrible environments had stupidly optimist goals for the future.

"You're a show-off." Sebastian said as Blaine leaned against the car.

"Me? Never." Blaine insisted, although he had to admit his high school summer job of working at an ice rink definitely helped to develop his skills. And he may have threw in a few turns just for the sake of demonstrating those few skills.

Sebastian regarded him for a moment, face warm and open in a way that was so rare that Blaine thought that _this was it _and he was going to say _I love you_.

But he laughed instead, mumbled, "It's getting late. We should get going."

And then the moment was over and they were driving home and Blaine kept wishing he wasn't so childish to let little things like that bother him.

Blaine was a hopeless romantic, of course, so _knowing _Sebastian loved him wasn't enough. He would just like to hear it for once; three little words that held a comfort and security and hope and promise.

It seemed a whole world was contained between the I-love-you's exchanged amongst two people. It was a surrender; an "I give up because I love you so much that it cannot be expressed so I have to settle for the inadequate way of communication known as the English language."

And Blaine's final thought was that Santana was right, and maybe he really _did _need to stop reading so much because it led to painful thinking.

"I love you." Blaine said, and tried to convince himself that he was content with the exchange being one-sided.

That night had been a peculiar one. After Blaine had finally drifted off to sleep at Sebastian's side he embarked on a night of dreaming, exploring his mind in ways that he'd hardly recall in the morning.

He did remember the sex dream, though, possibly because they just weren't as frequent as they used to be during his adolescence. So whenever he rarely encountered one, it had a tendency to stick with him for a few days.

And this one was…peculiar. At first it was all sensation. Lips and hands and the tickle of nails lightly scraping down his back. He felt as if he were floating, floating, and the room was so bright, so very very bright.

And then he realized what he was really looking at weren't walls, but rather pale skin. And what was blurry became defined, like he was putting on his glasses after wandering around blindly. He made out individual features at first, brown hair, a defined nose, kiss-swollen lips.

It wasn't until hazel eyes met blue ones, so wide, so curious like that of a child's that he knew who was the subject of his dream.

Blaine woke up abruptly, sitting up in bed and practically panting. Sebastian didn't even stir next to him. He rubbed a hand over his face and got out of bed, heading over to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

He desperately hoped if he went right back to bed he'd forget the dream by morning.


	9. Chapter 9

"Do you ever sit down and wonder when everything started to go wrong?" Blaine asked Emma, who was busy scrubbing away at a grape. He had seen her eat her lunch that way time and time again but it never ceased to amaze him. He always thought about asking her the story behind that but thought it rude to do so.

"All the time." She answered before popping the grape into her mouth, then starting to scrub away at the next one. "Why? Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

Blaine stared down at his lunch, which was completely untouched. He hadn't been able to really stomach anything for the past twenty-four hours, too consumed with guilt among other things. The school was still in the euphoric haze that was usually the aftermath of Valentine's Day and it was absolutely horrific.

Somehow he couldn't meet Emma's gaze; her unusually huge eyes looking at him with concern.

"Do you ever feel like you made the wrong choice?" Blaine finally gathered up the courage to ask.

That was vague enough, and as specific as he was willing to go on the topic. Blaine sometimes felt his life was a compilation of wrong turns and if it kept piling up one day he'd end up driving straight off a cliff.

But on a technical level, he did not make a wrong choice. Not yet. But he felt the urge to do so and that was probably more frightening than just making a rash decision. Because it is slow and conniving and would continue to creep up on him until he was in a position where making any other choice is not a viable option.

And honestly none of that would make any fucking sense to Emma so he decided to give her the edited version.

"Oh, constantly!" She leaned forward, as if to tell a secret. "Like one time, I accidently touched the handle to the door for a public restroom. God, I nearly had a heart attack."

"Wild." Blaine agreed through a tight-lipped smile.

"Is something wrong?"

He quickly shook his head. "No, no. Everything's fine."

They ate lunch together and continued to chat about trivial things but there was always the nagging voice at the back of Blaine's head and he could not get it to shut up for the life of him.

* * *

Kurt had recovered more or less from the self-induced trauma that was Valentine's Day. He knew he would have to abstain from night time bathroom trips for about a week. No more chai tea before bed.

Honestly, if anything he was glad he had gotten his mini-break down over with. It was super embarrassing, and if he had done that in front of any of the jocks, especially Karofsky, it would simply make him a target. Well, more so than usual.

But no more weakness. No more crying. He would face his fears head on. Which is why he looked Karofsky right in the eye as he passed the gorilla in the hallway, knowing that there were too many teachers around for anything bad to happen to him.

Yet something weird happened. Instead of standing his ground and glaring back in an equally menacing fashion Karofsky was extremely quick to look away. Of course Kurt didn't dwell on it for more than a moment because he had more important things to deal with than the nuances of his bully's life.

"Weird." Mercedes noted next to him.

"Yeah…weird."

And that was the end of that.

* * *

"It's like, if given the option between clawing my own eyes out and sitting through another thirty minute long documentary about _the evolution of quantum mechanics_-" Kurt said to Brett—formally known as Stoner Brett— before Blaine actually entered the room.

"Hey, guys. Sorry for being late. So, how did you guys like yesterday's film? Interesting stuff, right?" his teacher asked, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

_You are a grown man, _Kurt thought critically of his childish mannerisms.

There was a mixture of responses to Blaine's question, and of course Kurt swore to the heavens that it was the most captivating film he'd ever seen.

"Dude, I thought you hated it." Stoner Brett whispered loudly and Kurt shot him a look that read: _I trusted you._

Undeterred, the drug-user continued, "You said you'd like, claw your eyes out or something."

Kurt was not religious, but he really almost called on the savior Jesus Christ himself to save him from doing something to Brett that would get him suspended, possibly sent to jail.

Blaine laughed a bit at that because that was _so Kurt_. "It's alright. I understand that learning it's not everyone's preferred topic." Laughter throughout the class as Blaine picked up a pile of papers on his desk. "Which is why I took it upon myself to give you guys a pop quiz on it."

Kurt could practically hear the whole class telepathically planning a mass suicide as Blaine handed out the quiz papers. He was getting a crappy grade as it is, and it was mostly due to stunts like this.

Kurt had never given less of a shit about anything in his life and that was saying something because he sat through the Super Bowl that one time with his father. But when it came to answering the questions he tried his best, which quite frankly wasn't very good at all.

He was so focused on the test that he didn't notice the way Blaine looked up at him periodically before looking back down and clearing his throat.

* * *

Now Blaine had done a lot of horrible shit in the past, but it was this new development that made him certain he just reserved a seat in one of the hottest infernos of hell. Just when he was certain that he couldn't get any worse he always did something outstanding to top himself. But this time actually took the cake; fuck, it took the whole dessert platter.

And cryptic advise from Miss Pillsbury—"Have you tried expressing your feelings through song?"—really wasn't going to cut it anymore. He knew for a fact that she got her degree online, anyway.

He needed someone to be stringent with him; to be honest. He didn't need to be coddled, but to be told the honest severity of the situation at hand.

He needed Santana Lopez.

Not that he had any other friends but yeah.

He got home and set his bag down. Sebastian was working overtime and wouldn't be home until a few hours later. He figured it would be nice to straighten up the kitchen. And the living room. And the dining room. And pretty much every single room in the house until it was six o' clock and Sebastian still wasn't home.

So there was no way of avoiding it. He could clean the whole neighborhood and he'd still have to make that call. So he did.

"Hit me, Hobbit." Santana said as way of greeting.

He took a deep breath, thinking of the most delicate way he could explain his situation. She was one of the most judgmental people he knew, and one wrong word could have her calling him derogatory names for weeks.

"Do you ever have thoughts about people you shouldn't?"

There. He said it. And now it was real and it wasn't just in his head. Well, it _was _just in his head. And maybe that was half of the problem.

"I'm flattered but I'm taken." Santana said and normally he would find that weirdly amusing but this time it was nothing short of anxiety-inducing. She read into his silence.

"It's that bad, huh? So, define _thoughts_."

He sighed. "You know exactly what I mean." She liked to play mental games with people sometimes; people meaning Blaine. For some reason she treated all of his problems like they were trivial, and this was one of the rare cases where he wished she was right.

"Let me guess…it was that Sam guy wasn't it?"

"Worse."

"The pool-boy from last summer."

He wrinkled his nose at that. "Gross."

"Just tell me." She said in a way that was almost sincere. He took a deep breath that still went by way too quickly. He exhaled.

Did he really want to admit this? Wasn't this the kind of stuff that ended up on Dr. Phil specials? But wouldn't it be worse to keep it to himself; to let it fester like a wound until the infection spread and he found himself doing something really rash and stupid?

"It was…about a student."

Silence. Unbearable, choking silence.

Honestly, he couldn't really pinpoint the exact moment it began. Maybe it was the Wednesday before Valentine's Day. That _stupid comment _he made.

_"Thanks, but I can't exactly go home to you. I only have you on Wednesday afternoons."_

Even referring to the possibility, whether he was joking or not, had been a mistake.

"Well, it could be worse." Santana said, breaking the silence. And he had released the breath he had no clue he was even holding. She seemed oddly calm about the whole thing; like it wasn't cause to call the National Guard.

"How?" He asked because _can it really be worse?_

"You could be teaching kindergarten."

Santana cackled as Blaine admonished her. "_San_!"

* * *

Kurt's bag was so heavy that he was sure if not monitored it would drag him down to the deepest pits of hell. When he finally made it to his car in the parking lot, he tossed the forsaken bag in the back seat and started preparing to drive home; when all of a sudden he saw a familiar form approaching through his rear-view mirror. It was the Mohawk that gave it away.

"What do you want, Noah?" Kurt drawled when Puck finally made it to his car window.

"Can you drop me off at the liquor store?"

Kurt looked at him with narrowed eyes for a total of three seconds before shrugging. "Get in."

And then they were driving.

"How'd Valentine's Day go with Lauren?" Kurt found himself asking before he could help himself. He was certain that a small part of him was a major masochist.

"_Very well_." Puck answered with an extremely cheesy wink that made Kurt mutter _oh my god _under his breath. He knew that the jock was probably exaggerating, and the extent of physical contact between him and Zises was probably her hand slapping the jock's hand away.

But still, he sometimes wished he had someone who he could lie about sleeping with. Which is a very dumb and specific thing to want, he realized. But it's not like it was under his control.

He supposed there was Chandler. But no one even knew about Chandler yet, and the extent of their communication since they met was simply texting.

"You're just jealous." Puck replied when he saw Kurt's skepticism and _wow he really hit the nail on the head, didn't he? And god, it turns out the only thing more painful than jealousy is being caught in it._

"Oh, yeah. I'm jealous of your fictional rendezvous." Kurt answered bitingly.

"Whoa, dude, I didn't mean to like, offend you, or whatever." Puck said hastily, probably because the last time he made Kurt angry resulted in the silent-treatment for three weeks, two days, twenty-one hours, and seven minutes.

"You didn't _offend_ me." Kurt lied, turning the corner so he was on the street that had the closest liquor store.

"I did. And I'm sorry. I mean, if it would make you feel better, we could-"

"I'm alright, but thanks."

"Okay. But like if you're ever-"

"As much as I appreciate the offer-"

"I mean, it wouldn't _really _be gay-"

"_No thank you, Noah_." Kurt said with finality before pulling up to the liquor store and watching as the infamous Noah Puckerman—slightly homosexual tendencies and all—entered the store and purchased various booze with his fake I.D.

And he was stuck waiting outside, wondering when the hell his life took the turn from being slightly pathetic to one big walking embarrassment.

Blaine and Sebastian were engaged in their weekly work-out; the two of them running on neighboring treadmills.

* * *

"Personally, I think Romney has some good policies." Sebastian said, turning up the setting on his treadmill a bit and looking unfairly flawless while Blaine was sure he looked as if he ran a marathon. Or as if a marathon was run on him.

"But he's a homophobic, sexist jerk." Blaine argued, tossing Sebastian and incredulous look.

"Who happens to have some great policies." Sebastian insisted, which earned him an eye-roll.

"If you vote for him I'm never speaking to you again." Blaine said, only half-joking.

Sebastian mimicked him, using a whiny voice to portray Blaine's quality of speech, which caused Blaine to take the towel resting on his shoulders and throw it at him.

Sebastian grimaced when the towel hit him; loudly blanching at how moist it was. "You're disgusting."

"Your political affiliations are disgusting."

And Blaine valued moments like this. Where he and Sebastian simply hung out, like old times. Back when things weren't so complicated. And did they _need _to be? Couldn't it just stay simple all the time?

Sebastian turned up his setting even higher, to which Blaine said, "You're not possibly human." But it came out sounding like a lot of heavy breathing with the occasional vowel sound.

"Hm? What was that? Are you tired? Do you need a _break_?" Sebastian said.

"No." Blaine said defensively, to which Sebastian laughed. Ever since high school when they both played for the same lacrosse team; they liked to challenge each other. No matter what it was; whether it was running laps at practice or seeing who would score the winning point; there was always a competitive edge to their relationship.

"The hour's almost up anyway. And then you're free to go jerk off to pictures of the periodic table or whatever it is you do for fun."

"You're so disgusting."

Sebastian simply smirked in response and that's when Blaine was reminded that his boyfriend was the type of person to consider that a compliment.

Somehow in the comfort of their banter Blaine had forgotten all about his concerns of earlier that day. His conversation with Santana had helped too. She assured him that the brain was a fucked up place, and sometimes it conjured up random things that don't mean much of anything. He figured he'd take her word for it; because the alternative of his thoughts _meaning something _was a possibility he did not want to dwell on.

So when Wednesday finally came around and Kurt Hummel entered his classroom after school for their usual obligations Blaine had managed to convince himself that it was _just that_. An obligation. And that's all it would ever be.

No matter how much Blaine delighted in the way Kurt often bit his lip in concentration, or admired the way his face flushed whenever he was slightly flustered; it would not progress beyond that. A delight. An admiration.

Because at the end of the day Kurt Hummel was one of nearly two-hundred students that he taught on a daily basis. He was a number. He was a GPA entered into a system.

No matter how real and wonderful he appeared to be when he was merely a foot away.

And that's what Blaine kept telling himself whenever he found his eyes were lingering for too long or his thoughts dwelling on things that it shouldn't.

At the end of the day, any time spent with Kurt was simply a part of his job.


	10. Chapter 10

The heating system was broken at McKinley. Not only was every stair-well reduced to an icy death trap, but students were sporting thick winter jackets, gloves, and for the fashionably inept: ear muffs.

"If I see one more girl wearing uggs with shorts I'll light myself on fire." Kurt mumbled as his frozen fingers stumbled with his locker combination.

"And I'll use you as a heat source." Tina said, leaning against the locker next to his

"Anything to help the cause." Kurt agreed, as he struggled with his lock. After a good thirty seconds with no success he figured the only other option was cursing loudly and kicking the locker until he intimidated it into opening.

"Language, Mister Hummel." said a certain Blaine Anderson with a teasing grin as he walked past headed to god knows where. Didn't he have some class to teach as opposed to walking through the halls like an invalid? But Kurt found it in his heart to forgive him considering the coat he was sporting was particularly flattering to his form.

Of course, he didn't even need to turn around to know that Tina's stupid face was probably splitting in half due to her mocking grin. The incessant teasing, which had died down somewhat, still resurfaced every now and then and it was still just as unbearable.

"_Language, Mister Hummel._" Tina mimicked in a deep voice; naturally causing Kurt to stop paying attention to his locker long enough to glare at her.

"You are out of control." Kurt said, shaking his head. "I'll have you know that he has a girl friend."

He had no clue why he felt the need to lie. Lying would imply that he was covering up something. And that there was definitely a _something _that needed to be covered up.

Which there wasn't. Not even slightly. And there never _ever _could be.

"Really?" Tina asked; one eyebrow raised in slight skepticism.

"I saw them at the mall during break." Kurt said and watched as Tina's features quickly moved from reluctant to accepting. And _wow _it was really easy to lie, wasn't it? Just say things and people will simply take your word for it.

"Bummer. I already came up with your couple name." Tina said with a mock-pout.

"And what would that be?"

"Anderhummel." She informed him.

He snorted. "Don't quit your day job."

* * *

"Okay, but on a scale of one to ten, how cute is he?" Kurt asked Blaine as he perused the picture frames on the teacher's desk in an attempt to find a photograph that might have the mysterious 'Seb' in it.

Blaine gave him a slight warning glare but didn't respond, turning back around to continue looking in the cabinet in the back of the room and take inventory. He was aware that many students had a habit of "accidentally" taking supplies from his classroom, and liked to check every now and again.

Honestly, he supposed this whole scenario was his fault to begin with, considering he was the one to bring up the whole topic of Valentine's Day to the student, which resulted in a ten minute story about scary movies and cheesecake that only made a small amount of sense which led to how _his _Valentine's Day went which led to the questioning on Sebastian's attractiveness.

If this were World War One then Blaine was the soldier who shot the Archduke.

"Ten? Nine? Stop me when I'm close." Kurt said, persisting on the topic.

Blaine didn't even dignify him with an answer, instead silently counting the supplies with his numb fingers and hoping the frost bite wouldn't progress to the point of needing amputation.

"Four? Three?" Kurt continued to count down in subtle horror. "…you're joking. Two?"

"I'm not going to have this conversation with you." Blaine said sternly as he moved from counting the flasks to the petri dishes.

"Is it filed under 'things we can't talk about because it's highly inappropriate subject matter'?" Kurt asked, seemingly serious but his voice carrying mocking undertones that Blaine had learned to pick up on after their third session.

"No, it's filed under 'None of your business and if you don't finish those practices problems it's for homework.'" He kindly corrected.

"All you had to do was say he was ugly." Kurt said; voice riddled with a smugness that actually got under Blaine's skin.

He turned around from the cabinet, prepared to counter with something _incredibly clever _–he was sure of it—when he heard the door open and someone else entered the room.

Blaine felt as if he were almost caught in the act; which was odd because there was no act to be caught in. Nevertheless, he turned his attention back to the cabinets and only half listened as the blonde girl talked to Kurt for a few moments.

"Can we discuss this later, Quinn?" Kurt said, and that's when it all clicked.

_Quinn. Quinn Fabray. _Although teachers weren't supposed to gossip; he heard many stories in the teacher's lounge about Quinn Fabray. And her fall from grace.

And she was friends with Kurt. Huh. You learn something new every day.

"Yeah. Okay." Quinn said after a while, although there was so much more waiting just behind her lips; fighting to be said, but something else was holding her back. "Sorry for the interruption." She added, flashing a brilliant smile at Blaine that made any form of irritation fade.

"No problem. Have a nice day." Blaine said to her as she headed out of the door, actually feeling the energy in the room shift. "Ten, by the way." He said to Kurt.

"What?" The student asked in mild confusion.

"My boyfriend. He's a ten." Blaine clarified which earned him a laugh that should have been _outlawed_.

* * *

The future seemed so brilliant from far away. But the closer it got the scarier it became. Slowly but surely, it would rear its ugly head; prove that all that glittered was not gold.

It was one thing to be a freshman in high school dreaming of notoriety and fame and fortune. It was another thing to be a quarter through junior year and to still be wishing for those things without having done anything to achieve it.

And that was Kurt Hummel's dilemma.

He personally subscribed to the belief that everything would "work itself out" and "what's meant to be will happen". And a small, immature side of him sort of figured that the universe owed him. He'd put up with so much for too long and there had to be some sort of payoff, right?

That's what got him through the hard days. He'd never forget that one time in chemistry class; Blaine had said something that actually resonated with him. For once.

"For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction."

And that was honestly the most glorious thought to him. The fact that every not-so-wonderful thing that happened to him would result in something that was worth it.

Being with Blaine helped to subdue all of the speculation, though. The constantly rushing future didn't come to a complete halt, but it slowed down.

But maybe that had nothing to do with the teacher. Maybe it was the fact that Chemistry was just one of those ridiculously boring, tedious things that made time slow down to prolong the torture.

Either way, it wasn't completely horrible. And Blaine wasn't completely horrible. And for a few hours in his day things were just _there_. Not "mildly tolerable" or "completely horrific" but they just were.

Which is why it caught Kurt completely by surprise when Blaine posed the question, "What do plan on doing after high school?"

Kurt's writing hand stopped its motion. "I was thinking of being a chemist."

Blaine's mouth turned upward in the tiniest of smiles. "Have you always been a smart ass or is that a learned trait?"

"It's crafted over time." Kurt informed him. He handed him the worksheet he had been bull shitting for the past fifteen minutes.

"Noted." Blaine took the worksheet out of the student's hand. "No, but seriously, no life goals? Aspirations?"

"I feel like I'm filling out a questionnaire for eHarmony." Kurt joked.

"You're deflecting."

"I'm devoting my whole life to doing good work for the theater." Kurt said in a self-mockery.

"Not if you don't pass this class." Blaine mumbled as he looked over Kurt's work, before gesturing to a specific spot on the worksheet. "What is that?"

"It's a diagram." Kurt said as if it were obvious. "See? That's solution A. Over there is its solvent. And that's the solute."

"I'm almost positive I'm staring at a picture of a cat."

Kurt sighed exasperatedly, in a way that made Blaine aware he knew _exactly _what he was doing. "Must you take everything so literally? It's a metaphor."

And really, Blaine wanted to get upset, he wanted to put his foot down and lay down the law but how could he do that when Kurt looked so confident in a way that should have been _infuriating—_which it was—but instead came off as ridiculously adorable?

"Can you be clearer next time? This won't cut it on standardized tests." Blaine settled on saying, letting Kurt off easy when a small part of him knew that if it had been _any other student_ he wouldn't have put up with the lack of regard to the subject.

As Kurt took the paper and fixed his error, he talked to Blaine. "So…what's _your _life goal?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I'm not exactly in high school."

"I wasn't aware dreaming had an age limit." Kurt said, and it annoyed Blaine to no end that the student said things like that without even dwelling on it; always had something disgustingly brilliant coming from that mouth and nine times out of ten it was just an accident.

"Well, I've always liked chemistry." Blaine admitted.

"Lies."

He laughed. "No, seriously. Teaching here wasn't my exactly my ideal, of course. I was going to be a professor at NYU."

"Fancy." Kurt noted. "So, why are you here?"

"I was already teaching a few preliminary courses to freshman, and my chem proffessor at the time was retiring. And, not to brag, but I had the highest average in his class. So of course he put in a good word for me and the job was practically mine…" Blaine's whole disposition seemed to change when talking about it; his eyes lit up in a way that Kurt had never really seen before. "But um, something came up." And then the light was gone.

"You shouldn't let people get in the way of your goals." Kurt mumbled half-listening and half-drawing on the worksheet. And it left Blaine wondering how the hell Kurt knew he was talking about a person.

"You wouldn't really understand." Blaine said dismissively.

This was one of the rare moments that reminded him that he and Kurt were at completely different stages of life. His student was at the point where he still had time to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, and then change his mind at least five times and still turn out okay. Hindsight taught Blaine that at the tender age of seventeen nothing was set in stone, things were still changing and the brain wasn't even done fully _forming_. There was plenty of room for error. And Blaine saw how stressed out Kurt got sometimes, wanted to tell him the truth of it all, but he knew there was no way the student would even believe him.

Meanwhile, Blaine was at the point where all of his old friends were becoming dads and he had to consider opening up a savings account for his retirement funds.

And that thought depressed the living hell out of him so he stopped thinking about it.

"You're right, I wouldn't." Kurt piped up as he added fins to his detailed drawing of a dolphin. "If anyone got in the way of me being on Broadway I'd tell them not to let the door hit them on the way out."

And Blaine simply rolled his eyes fondly, wishing he could borrow Kurt's brain so things could be as simple as the teenager made them out to be.

* * *

When Blaine got home he was surprised to see that Sebastian's car was already in the drive way. He figured that was odd; his boyfriend had done nothing to notify him that he was leaving early from work. He tried to shake off his worries; figuring there must have been a good reason.

He cautiously opened the door and saw Sebastian's form sitting in front of a television; some black and white film playing on mute. He was so still that Blaine almost thought he might have fallen asleep. There was only one wine glass out; but Blaine knew that it must have been refilled multiple times.

And honestly, what disgusted him the most was the way his pulse quickened as if he were _afraid_.

Maybe he was.

But he didn't really want to think like that because how _silly _would it be if he feared _Seb _of all people? Yet he still cautiously stepped past him in an attempt to keep quiet; not out of fear—of course not— but out of _courtesy_.

"Where were you?"

Blaine's blood ran cold at the sudden question. Or accusation.

"I said, _where were you_?" Sebastian repeated.

"I heard you the first time." Blaine snapped. "I was tutoring." He continued walking toward the steps to avoid further conversation.

"Don't lie to me." Sebastian said quietly, before standing up and for some reason Blaine's fight or flight instincts stopped working altogether; some element in Sebastian's voice serving to silence his.

But Blaine was an adult and had a right to go where he pleased without having to explain himself. And he knew that. But something about the way Sebastian was looking at him reducing him to nothing but a scared kid who got caught sneaking out by dad.

"Now, I'm going to ask you one more time." Sebastian stepped forward. Blaine stepped back; the railing of the stairway poking painfully into his side. "Where were you?"

"At the school." Blaine said, voice cracking in a way that he would have found pitiful if he had time to notice.

"Am I not enough for you anymore?" Sebastian asked desperately. "Is that why you're cheating on me?"

Blaine knew he was completely impossible to deal with when he got like this. But this all stemmed from an insecurity; from a sadness. It wasn't like he meant anything of what he said.

"I'm not. I was-"

"_At the school_." Sebastian patronized. He stepped closer. Blaine tried to step back but there was nowhere else to go. "Do you know how much I sacrifice for you? For _us_? _And this is how you repay me_?!"

Blaine flinched at the sudden yelling; Sebastian's breath absolutely reeked of alcohol. He tried not to panic; to calm his heart which would not stop pounding in his chest.

"You're right. I should be more grateful." He said, voice shaking a bit.

Sebastian glared at him for a moment, surprised at the change of tact. "Hm…I suppose I can find it in my heart to forgive you." And then he kissed him, breath reeking of alcohol.

Blaine kissed back at first, gradually backing away until he was at the stairs. Then he booked it to his room and locked the door behind him, the procedure becoming routine.

And after he was done having his minor panic attack he took a few folders out of his bag and started to grade some papers he hadn't gotten to.

One particularly expressional paper had a quote at the end of it; which said:

_Please do not understand me too quickly.-Andre Gide_

Blaine smiled at the quote that had nothing to do with the topic, and wasn't shocked in the slightest when he looked on the back to find Kurt's name neatly printed on the bottom. And it was in that moment that he wondered if it were possible to fall in love with a person's beautiful mind.


	11. Chapter 11

Now, one would think that by now Kurt would learn that it would probably be a pretty bad idea to wear his favorite Armani shirt to school where it was susceptible to danger in the form of blue dye number three.

But it was a _sacrifice_; Kurt assured himself, a _sacrifice _in the name of fashion. He'd be recalling his hardships in interviews one day, and they'd all laugh at how much his life sucked. Then they'd go to some fancy after party and he'd accidentally touch Dolly Parton's left boob and they'd serve caviar that he'd only pretend to eat because fish eggs sounded pretty god damn gross.

That's what he did it for. To earn the privilege to pretend to eat fancy foods at fancy parties and have an inappropriate run in with a celebrity.

He strolled through the empty hallway with no sense of urgency. He knew he'd be late to class but he had to get cleaned up. It was when he arrived at his locker to retrieve a spare shirt that he heard before he saw the group of letterman clad jocks stampede down the hallway. Karofsky walked over first; flanked by Azimio and some Asian kid with a buzz cut that Kurt had never quite caught the name of.

"Can I help you?" Kurt asked, barely paying them any attention as he entered in his locker combination.

"We're just here to survey our handy-work." Karofsky said, eyes scanning Kurt's form in a way that was slightly unnerving. Azimio and Buzzcut seemed to be oblivious to it, however, simply getting a kick out of picking on a loser.

Kurt didn't even dignify any of them with any sort of response, opening his locker to retrieve his shirt; which he found balled up and thrown inside. It was only when he took it out and held it up in the fluorescent hallway light that he saw exactly what was done. And he responded in a totally unexpected way.

He started laughing.

"Hey, what's so funny, ladypants?" Karofsky challenged indignantly, which made Kurt laugh even louder.

"Please, enlighten me," Kurt started, holding up his defaced shirt that was clearly spray-painted by the group of athletes, "why does my shirt say 'fap'?"

The two other jocks turned to Buzzcut with accusatory glares.

"Man, it was three letters." Azimio said, shaking his head.

"You had _one _job." Karofsky continued.

Kurt watched as the three fought over their failed attempt at defacing Kurt's property, taking that as his cue to walk away. He made it about a foot before a strong hand gripped the collar of his shirt and dragged him backward, nearly choking him.

"Not so fast, Gay lord." Karofsky said.

"You get wittier and wittier, don't you?" Kurt quipped, smug expression on his face.

"I'm gonna give you five seconds to wipe that stupid grin off your _stupid _face." Karofsky threatened; face inches away from Kurt in a way that would have been intimate in different circumstances. "One…two…three…"

Now Kurt's survival instincts should have kicked in at that moment and every synapse in his brain should have been screaming at him to _stop smiling _but his pride seemed to override all of that. Sure, he couldn't overpower three jocks; there was no way he could challenge even one of them. But it was the thought of a minor victory; something as simple as refusing to obey that gave him the strength to keep going.

"…four…five." Karofsky finished counting.

"Wow, I didn't know you could count all the way up to.." Kurt started, but was cut off swiftly when the air literally left his lungs as he was shoved harshly into the locker.

It was when the three of them started closing in on him that Kurt finally, _finally _let panic sink in. Shouldn't they be walking away? There was no way they'd actually severely hurt him on school property.

"I think this warrants a little trip to the dumpster, don't you?" Azimio said to Karofsky in a genial manner.

"Great idea. Grab him." Karofsky said and if Kurt weren't about to enter a really dangerous situation he might have paused to appreciate the wonderful homage they were all paying to classic mob boss movies.

It was just as Buzzcut picked up Kurt and hoisting him over his shoulder that Kurt heard the voice of an angel. Or satan. What to call it was debatable.

"Put down the homosexual." Sue called through a highly unnecessary megaphone.

Kurt hit the ground flat on his back before he even realized what was happening and the jocks were retreating, all the while Sue was yelling demeaning names and profanity at them. He lay there dazed more than anything before the megaphone was pointed directly in his face.

"Get to class!"

And that's all it took for Kurt to be up and running; making his way to his Chemistry class to take that blasted test he didn't even study for, ears ringing, and change of clothes forgotten. He was silently thanking whatever demented soul decided to put Sue Sylvester on hallway duty.

* * *

It was the pity he couldn't handle. Looks of disgust were fine, hell, he practically lived for them. Even looks of curiosity. But it was the pity that ate away at him for reasons he couldn't even begin to understand. Sure, he was gayer than a unicorn galloping in the pride parade. And yes, he did get bullied for it on occasion. That was just his lot in life. Some people got bullied for their height, or for having bucked teeth. Everyone had their cross to bear and Kurt thought he did a pretty fantastic job of bearing his.

But upon entering his chem class a good ten minutes into the period, all he wanted was to be yelled at for being late; to feel some sense of normalcy. But as soon as Blaine assessed the situation he simply looked at Kurt apologetically—_and what the hell did he have to be sorry for?_—and mumbled a simple, "Take a seat, Hummel."

Kurt wanted to stand up on a desk and yell at the teacher; tell him to stop treating him as if he were some fucking anomaly which could break if handled a bit too roughly.

But he didn't do that because he supposed that would be unacceptable and the school would call his parents and tell them that Kurt was crazy and should be put in therapy or whatever.

So he bit his tongue when Blaine walked by to hand him his test and he hoped with all his might that Blaine wouldn't stop and try to console him or comfort him or ask something dumb like "Are you okay, Kurt?" Because he swore he'd fucking lose it.

He could take the kicking and the prodding and the glaring but kindness was something so foreign he swore it would make him cry.

Of course Blaine asked anyway because that was just so _like him _and he really couldn't help himself, could he?

"I've never been better." Kurt answered. "I mean, blue isn't really my color, but…"

Blaine's eyes dropped down to the slushie stain on his shirt before they were brought back up to Kurt's face. "Well I think it brings out your eyes."

And Kurt wanted to be annoyed; he honestly tried. But he couldn't help but smile and even blush like some freaking hormonal teenage girl.

"Can I take my test now?" Kurt asked, trying to feign annoyance anyway. Blaine simply grinned knowingly and handed him the test.

"Good luck."

_I'll need it, _Kurt added. He was in trouble; and it had little to do with the chemistry test in front of him.

* * *

"If that guy keeps looking at you like that we're leaving." Sebastian declared; gripping the end of his fork a bit too tightly as he sat across the table from Blaine.

"Like what?" Blaine asked with a small laugh, playing the innocent when he knew exactly what was happening and just liked to watch Sebastian squirm.

"Like he's picturing you naked." Sebastian said. "What a creep."

"Five years ago you _were _that creep." Blaine reminded him, taking a bite of his salad and chewing.

Sebastian gave him the glare that he reserved for very specific times like this when Blaine had outwitted him and he could no longer counter with words.

"But, if it makes you feel any better, you were a lot cuter." Blaine added, his heart swelling at Sebastian's reluctant smile.

Blaine wanted to tell Sebastian he looked wonderful when he smiled and should do it more often; but the truth was he did smile a lot. But it wasn't the same smile as the one he donned now; the one accompanied by a bashful laugh; the one where his eyes crinkled a little at the corners and it looked so natural as if it had always been there.

But Blaine didn't quite know how to explain it and by the time he opened his mouth to try the smile was gone.

* * *

"Streisand!" Rachel suggested, and causing Kurt and Quinn to scoff at the same time.

"One of your dumber ideas." Kurt muttered.

Rachel huffed indignantly, putting her hands on her hips in a way she had been accustomed to doing ever since she was three and a half. Kurt rolled his eyes. He knew the moment she adopted that stance it meant she was preparing to throw a major tantrum.

"We really appreciate your help, Rachel. It's very selfless of you."

Rachel's room got really quiet after that. Quinn hadn't said two nice words to her in the entirety of their friendship—if one could call it that. Yet this new and improved Quinn seemed to lack the fiery hatred of the old one; and no one could quite place why that was so disconcerting.

But then a smile broke out on Rachel's face. She liked to be complimented. "Oh, it's nothing. I wouldn't want my inevitable victory to be _too _easy. I like a challenge."

And just like that the tension dissolved and they continued to talk about their assignment for glee club.

* * *

Kurt walked into Blaine's room that Wednesday afternoon to discover the teacher packing up his grading book and papers.

"Oh, are we…was tutoring cancelled today?" Kurt asked, slightly disappointed but understanding that Blaine had a fully-developed life that had nothing to do with Kurt or any other student.

Blaine looked up. "Oh, no, not at all. We're just changing venues."

"Okay?" Kurt said, holding the door open for Blaine as the teacher left the classroom, and following close behind him. "Where are we going?"

"Weight room." Blaine said.

Kurt made a face. The last time he was in McKinley's weight room had to be freshmen year when it was a part of the gym curriculum. It took a total of two days before he was exempt from those weekly meetings in that accursed room; mostly due to the complaints of other boys.

"I take it working out doesn't appeal to your delicate sensibilities?" Blaine teased.

Kurt ignored the jest. "Why are we going to the weight room?"

"You'll see." Blaine responded cryptically and Kurt was never one for working out puzzles. But he followed the teacher all the way down to the weight room, which hadn't changed a single bit since he last saw it; save for the fact that they found a way to get rid of the blood stain that used to be on one of the mats on the far left.

"Kurt Hummel, welcome to Self-Defense 101. I'll be your instructor." Blaine announced and it took every ounce of self-control Kurt possessed not to laugh.

"You're kidding."

Blaine shook his head. "It's high time someone taught you how to throw a punch."

"What makes you think I don't already know how?"

Blaine shrugged. "Just a guess." He gestured to the punching bag. "But, you're welcome to prove me wrong."

And _there _it was. A challenge. Now Kurt had absolutely no choice in the matter but to strap on those stupid boxing gloves—"Are these on backwards?"—and to beat Blaine at his own game.

Blaine rolled his eyes and walked over, putting the gloves on for Kurt and adjusting it to accommodate his small wrist size. "How does that feel?" He asked, throat going a bit dry when he realized how close he was to the student.

"Heavy." Kurt settled on saying; the gloves tugging his arms down. Blaine smiled a bit and backed away slightly. He didn't know why he was doing this. It was the exact opposite of what he should be doing—avoiding Hummel. But he'd never met someone so self-righteous yet downright _helpless _all at once and Blaine couldn't have that on his conscience. He was teaching Kurt how to defend himself for his _safety_, and that was on a strictly professional level.

Kurt stood in front of the punching bag and Blaine immediately identified about ten things wrong with his stance. He came up behind him and placed two hands on his shoulders, causing Kurt to flinch.

"Arms up like this." He said, guiding Kurt's arms to a better position. "Straighter posture." He suggested, and felt Kurt's shoulder muscles tense up as he stood a bit straighter. "And relax." He added.

About a million red flags went up in Blaine's brain, warning him how this could lead to a disaster but he ignored every single one of them.

Blaine felt Kurt relax slightly against him, but not nearly enough. "Just breathe. " He instructed. "Slowly. In and out."

He spent what must have been a minute in silence; holding Kurt as the two simply breathed until he finally relaxed.

"Good." Blaine said in a way that made Kurt shiver slightly. He stepped away. "Now for these first few punches just focus on force. We'll work on precision later."

Kurt took that as his cue to throw his first punch which, for lack of a better term, sucked.

"Oh, come on, you can do better than that." Blaine said and Kurt threw another punch, still completely composed.

"That was terrible." Blaine said, laughing a bit and the sound echoed in Kurt's ears; taunting him. Because no one ever took him seriously, did they? It's like everyone was laughing at some big joke and Kurt couldn't understand the punch-line.

Kurt hit the bag again, making a small noise of exertion with all the force he used; yet the bag barely budged. He sighed; fists falling in defeat.

"Come on, Hummel. I know you're angrier than that." Blaine jeered. "You have a lot to be pissed about."

"Maybe I'd do better if the punching bag had your face on it." Kurt said bitterly and immediately regretted it, but as opposed to getting angry Blaine laughed.

"There we go. Focus on that anger." Blaine said. There was so much locked up rage in everything Kurt did and one would have to be blind not to see it. The kid was pissed off almost all the time and did a poor job of hiding it. "Go on, hit your hardest."

And before Blaine even finished that sentence Kurt was hitting. And hitting and hitting with so much force the bag nearly came off of its hook. And he should have been tired but he just kept going in this display of unabashed fury. Some of the most pitiful noises were coming out of his mouth; like the sounds a trapped animal would make and all Blaine could do was stare as Kurt Hummel succumbed to his anger; became unmade in front of him.

Eventually Kurt used up all his energy and stopped all movement, simply breathing heavily. And even now Blaine couldn't help but stare; couldn't help but think that Kurt looked gorgeous with his skin flushed and his chest heaving up and down and god, Blaine was going to land himself in prison if he didn't stop having thoughts like that.

He got the vague feeling he was seeing something he wasn't supposed to see; like someone getting out of the shower or two people sharing a special moment.

Then Kurt turned away, cutting off Blaine's view. And there was a moment of silence before Blaine heard what sounded like a whimper; or what could have been a sob. But just like that it was gone and Kurt turned back around, clamoring with those stupid god damn gloves as he tried to take them off.

"Let me." Blaine said, reaching forward and sliding the gloves off of each of Kurt's hands. He stayed quiet; holding Kurt's hand for a moment longer than necessary before he turned away.

"Maybe that's enough for one day?" He suggested and that caused Kurt to laugh.

"Yeah, that was…I'm sorry. I'm…god, so sorry." Kurt apologized.

"No, that's…that's okay. Just, remind me never to piss you off, yeah?"

And they both laughed then; but there was a nervous energy about them as they both stirred clear of each other in an exercise of restraint.


	12. Chapter 12

Blaine went home and promptly shut the door to the bedroom before flopping onto his bed and screaming into his pillow. He hadn't done that since he was in high school, and he remembered it being the last time because his mom walked in and thought he was trying to suffocate himself—"Blainers, when you're done playing dead there's meatloaf on the table."—which, in her defense, wouldn't have been too far-fetched.

He was frustrated in more ways than one and it was going to absolutely ruin him. It had been hours ago, but he could still feel the way Kurt's body went completely lax under his fingertips; how he followed Blaine's instructions so precisely and it thrilled him in the worst possible way. It made him wonder what exactly his reaction would have been if Blaine told him to-

_He's a child, _Blaine reminded himself and that made his thoughts seem a lot less appealing.

"Beige or eggshell?" Sebastian called from the other room, which was so out of the blue it made those horrible thoughts go away entirely.

"What?"

"The living room. I'm having it repainted. Beige or eggshell?"

"I don't get it. Is that a gay thing?" Blaine called back, doing his best impersonation of his mother's voice and he couldn't contain his laughter when he heard Sebastian coming up the steps via indignant stomps.

"Listen, dork." Sebastian started from behind the closed door and that made Blaine laugh even more. "Pick a color or else I'm shoving this paint catalogue up your ass." Blaine didn't have to see Sebastian's face to know that his boyfriend was fighting the urge to smile.

"What were the options?"

"Beige. Or. Eggshell." Sebastian said, irritation building.

"Aren't those the same colors?" Blaine asked and actually heard Sebastian's sigh from behind the door.

"Beige it is." Sebastian said decidedly, obviously done with Blaine's bullshit for the day.

"Love you." Blaine said as compensation.

"Yeah, yeah." Sebastian responded, laughing slightly before he made his way back down stairs to coordinate his plans with some decorator he hired.

* * *

Ms. Ray concluded the class by announcing that there would be a final test on the Iliad that following Monday and Kurt swung his messenger bag over his shoulder and made a hasty escape, walking to meet Rachel by his locker.

He found her waiting, dressed in all black. He rolled his eyes accordingly.

He looked around a bit before leaning down and whispering, "Did you buy it?"

She huffed. "Cooperate, Kurt." And he had no clue why Rachel insisted on such dramatics; but he would play along if it meant getting what he wanted.

"You got the goods?" He whispered.

She nodded; seemingly sated for the moment. "You got the dough?"

He handed her a fifty dollar bill and she handed him the shopping bag, and the two stayed silent for a moment so Rachel could absorb the wonderful theatricality of the moment. But then Kurt started laughing and the moment was gone.

"You already have a bunch of scarves. Why do you need any more?" She asked him as his laughter died down.

"To choke people with." He responded as he took them out of the bag and sniffed them. They smelled like retail and oh god, he really did miss going to the mall.

He didn't deny that fact as he put the shopping bag into his locker. He swore if the thought entered _anyone's _head to mess with them he'd cut so many bitches it would become fucking art class in that hallway.

"Would you happen to know where Finn is?" Rachel asked and Kurt shrugged.

"Probably by Noah's locker. I think they're going bowling." He said, and Rachel went off to find Finn and probably yell at him for forgetting about their plans.

He was on his way to the parking lot when he encountered Blaine. "Hey, Kurt! I was just looking for you." He handed Kurt a cup of coffee.

Kurt accepted it, slightly surprised. "Thank you?"

"No problem." Blaine said. He had always noticed that Kurt got a bit tired toward the end of the day and was already in the process of getting coffee for himself. "It's from the teacher's lounge, though, so yeah. I've warned you."

Kurt was already taking a sip before Blaine finished talking, and his nose wrinkled as the taste of the slightly stale coffee settled on his tongue; causing the teacher to laugh.

"I'll make a special trip to the Lima Bean next time. Sound good?" Blaine proposed.

"Sounds perfect." Kurt said gratefully, taking another sip. "You know, after it's done burning off all my taste buds this coffee doesn't taste half bad."

Blaine laughed again and Kurt fought the urge to record the sound on his phone and set it as his ringtone. "You're really a brat, you know that?"

"Hurtful." Kurt responded; smiling.

"Later, Hummel." He started to walk away before turning back around. "And uh…between you and me I'm giving a pop quiz tomorrow. So, look over your notes."

Kurt looked slightly stunned before nodding. "Um, yeah. Will do. Have a good day, sir."

Blaine waved one last time before walking away as fast as possible. If he stayed a bit longer he was sure he would have been handing Kurt the answer keys to every test he planned on giving all freaking semester. It was pathetic; so ridiculously pathetic what he was doing. He was being brought to his knees—no pun intended—by a kid nearly a decade younger than him.

* * *

It was as Quinn and Kurt worked on dividing up the song for their Glee assignment that Kurt asked her the burning question. "What's the difference between someone flirting and someone just being really nice?"

Quinn looked up from her sheet music; interest peaked. She was soon wearing a knowing smile. "Is there someone I should know about?"

"Of course not. I'm just…" He looked down and finished lamely. "Curious. I'm curious."

"Right." She said, still wearing an infuriating grin. "Well, it depends. You can usually tell if that person is only that nice to you."

"Oh…" Kurt said, and then he tried again. "What if they notice things about you? What does that mean?"

Quinn looked Kurt over with a critical eye. She wasn't born yesterday and she knew what a love-struck boy looked like. She'd broken the hearts a few of them herself; had her heart broken by one or two. This was her area of expertise, she knew enough about young love to write a book.

"Who is he?" She asked again and watched for the tell-tale blush that stained Kurt's cheeks. He was so smitten and clueless. This was all something that was still new and exciting for him and Quinn wished there had been someone around to answer all of her questions when she was this new to the game; thought that maybe things might have turned out differently if only—

But that's not how it went and that's okay, too. Quinn was still happy. Happy. Happy. The word floated around in her mind like a virus.

"There's no one." Kurt insisted but upon receiving a 'bull-shit' glare he said, "He's not really a student at McKinley."

"Want to know my advice?" Quinn said sincerely, and Kurt nodded. "If he really likes you, he'll make a move. And just…if he does make sure you're responsible, Kurt. Don't rush things. There's plenty of time to go out into the world and experience things but make sure the timing is right."

Kurt let everything Quinn said sink in. He knew there was no way Blaine could have feelings for him; let alone _act _on them. But the advice still hit home. Maybe Kurt _was _rushing things. He saw everyone around him in a relationship and he was so eager to have his own that he was making one up in his head. He had to drop it. Blaine was his teacher, and one could even make the stretch to say they were friends. But there was nothing else going on.

"Thanks." Kurt said, heart dropping a bit at the realization that he'd been deceiving himself.

"No problem. Now back to the song. I was thinking we could change the key…"

* * *

"Finn, I'm begging you; put down my phone." Kurt said.

"Not until you tell me who Chandler is." Finn demanded and Kurt simply groaned. He knew it was a bad idea. He asked Finn to answer his phone if it rang; Kurt was busy preparing a dinner.

"He's just…this guy." Kurt answered and Finn seemed less than satisfied with the answer.

"I don't know what half of these compliments mean," Finn started as he read over some of the texts, "But I think this one is talking about your...um…rear end. And that's not okay."

Kurt turned red. "We're just friends."

"For sure." Finn said sarcastically. "You're my little brother, Kurt, I'm not gonna stand for some pervy guy saying these things to you."

"I'm older than you." Kurt reminded him for what felt like the millionth time. "And he's not a perv. We met at the music store and we just…kid around."

"What does 'kid around' mean?" Finn demanded. "Does that…is that some sort of like…sex thing?"

"Oh my god." Kurt muttered indignantly; trying to grab at his phone with his flour covered hands.

The truth was Kurt didn't know what he and Chandler were. They had a lot in common and spent a good amount of time sending each other links to music or fashion blogs they thought the other would like. But occasionally their conversations took a turn and became mildly…flirtatious, one could say. But they were joking. Because there was no way someone would _actually _be interested in Kurt. He accepted that fact two days ago during his conversation in Quinn. He'd have to wait until college to even pursue the thought of a relationship, and he honestly didn't mind.

"I'm so telling Burt." Finn said.

"Tell him." Kurt encouraged. "And I'll tell him what you and Rachel did last week in the backseat of his truck." He still had nightmares about it sometimes. All he did was catch them making out, but things were getting pretty heavy and some downright _filthy _things were said.

"Okay, okay." Finn set down the cellphone. "But I just…I don't like the idea of some random dude trying to…seduce you, or whatever."

Kurt laughed loudly at that. "Okay, no. That's so not what's happening. I promise."

"You sure?"

"Positive." Kurt assured him. "Now pass me the baking powder."

* * *

"And then he was all 'beige or eggshell'." Blaine said into the phone, mimicking Sebastian's voice and causing Cooper to laugh. "I have no clue when he got so...I don't know, _posh_."

"We're all posh. It's a rich thing." Cooper explained. "Like the other day I ordered business cards with the writing in ruby red. And they made it in _cherry _red. I nearly asked for a refund."

"Maybe you and Sebastian should be the ones in a relationship."

He didn't mean that. He knew he didn't mean that. Because he and Sebastian were meant to be together and when he thought back on it there was no other way it could have ended up. It was Sebastian who saved him; he wouldn't have survived high school let alone college if it weren't for him. No matter how much he thought back, or even looked forward, he couldn't see a time where he'd be without him.

"We'd kill each other." Cooper said. "But the sex would be pretty amazing."

"Gross. Did not need the image." Blaine said. "Speaking of sex, how's Kelsey doing?"

"Sabrina." Cooper supplied a bit sheepishly.

"No, her name's Kelsey…" Blaine said before catching on. "Coop, really? Already? You were only dating her for two weeks."

"Yeah…things got a bit weird after the whole rug burn incident."

Cooper was infamous in the family for his inability to settle down. Blaine supposed the pressure must have been a bit unbearable, considering both of their parents pretty much doted on Cooper ever since Blaine revealed his "alternative" views. Their hopes of Blaine being the perfect little businessman with a beautiful wife and seven kids were pretty much dashed, and Cooper wasn't looking very promising.

Another reason Blaine wasn't sure about the whole 'having kids' thing. They simply disappointed you in the end.

"You find a flaw in every girl you ever date."

"There's only one flawless girl in existence but you refuse to hook me up with her." Cooper reminded him.

"For the last time, Santana isn't interested in you. Or anyone else of the male gender."

"You keep saying that, but my heart's telling me to go for it." His brother said.

Ever since Cooper and Santana met a few years back Cooper had been absolutely obsessed, and pretty much brought her up every chance he got. Even if he actually stood a chance there was no way in hell Blaine would allow that to happen.

"If bitter disappointment and heartbreak is your ideal outcome, then by all means, go ahead."

"Listen, when I see something I want, I go after it." Cooper said. "I don't want to end up decaying in a nursing home somewhere; full of regret because of things I didn't do while I was young and devilishly sexy."

Blaine would roll his eyes but it wouldn't have the desired effect over the phone. "But she has a _girlfriend_. It'd be wrong."

"All is fair in love and war, kiddo." Cooper said. "There _are _no rules, or limits, or whatever other boring thing you could come up with."

Blaine tried to dismiss what Cooper was saying as the ramblings of a mad man, but even long after their conversation ended he found the words were still swimming around in his head.


	13. Chapter 13

"So Finn tells me some guy's been trying to get into your pants." Puck said at the dinner table when he was sitting across from _Kurt's father_ and Kurt nearly choked on the cherry tomato he was busy chewing. He wiped dressing off of the corner of his mouth and curtly pushed his salad away as to address these allegations in the most proper way:

"Finn's a fucking idiot."

"Hey, watch your mouth." Burt admonished and then continued talking to Carole, and Kurt thanked every deity he'd ever heard of that Burt didn't hear the first part of their conversation.

"Dude, you weren't supposed to say anything to him." Finn whispered vehemently but that didn't deter Puck in the slightest.

"Is it true?" Puck asked. "Because if this is actually a thing that's going to happen I can give you some pointers."

Kurt almost gagged right then and there, not sure who to be more upset with or what to be more distraught over. "No."

"Oh, come on, I'm like an expert. I mean; I've only slept with chicks but guys can't be _that _different…"

"I meant _no, _as in, there's no guy trying to…to get in my pants, or whatever." He whispered the last part, not feeling too keen on having this discussion right across from his dad, who was too busy trying to sneak salt onto his food to notice, god bless him.

Kurt swore the next time Puck visited he would make it his personal business to be somewhere else. The jock was like that embarrassing uncle that got drunk at every holiday party and occasionally got a bit handsy. Or maybe the handsy bit was just indigenous to Puck; but either way Kurt wasn't having any bit of it.

"I have homework so I think I'll head upstairs." Kurt said out loud, excusing himself from the table and going to his room to find a bit of peace.

His phone buzzed and a text from someone very familiar was on his screen.

**Chandler: **How's it going, beautiful?

**Kurt: **I've been better. You?

**Chandler: **Great now that I'm talking to you.

Okay, so Kurt wasn't born yesterday. That was definitely flirting. Blatantly out there without being overly exaggerated. So maybe Chandler wasn't joking this time. And maybe the fluttering in Kurt's stomach was due to more than the fact that he didn't get to finish eating.

**Kurt: **If I didn't know any better I'd say you were coming onto me.

Kurt waited a while; each second swelling in size until it felt like minutes and in each minute lay a mini eternity as he waited for a response. Maybe he scared him away? That seemed more possible. More like what he was used to.

**Chandler: **Well you're awfully perceptive.

Kurt would openly admit that the sound that just came out of his mouth was not human. It was possibly akin to a pig squealing or maybe a pterodactyl, but no use dwelling on that because his phone buzzed again with _another _message and holy hell; he wasn't sure if he could handle another one.

**Chandler: **Would you want to…hang out sometime?

_Breathe, _Kurt instructed himself as he typed out a reply.

**Kurt: **What would you have in mind?

There. That was perfect. He didn't seem completely desperate but at the same time he seemed pretty open to anything.

**Chandler: **Macadam's Community Theater. My friend had two tickets to go see their production of The Sound of Music next weekend but he has to get his tonsils taken out so…

**Kurt: **I love The Sound of Music.

**Chandler: **I know. You told me, remember? So is that a yes?

**Kurt: **Let me check my schedule…

**Chandler: **Alright.

Kurt had absolutely no plans that weekend. Zero. Not even zero. The amount of plans he had were in the negative numbers but he didn't want Chandler to catch on. So he waited fifteen minutes before replying.

**Kurt: **I'm free. And I'd love to go.

**Chandler: **Awesome. I'll give you details later on in the week.

**Kurt: **Great. Can't wait.

It was probably half an hour later when Kurt finally realized what had happened. He was going on a date. Sort of. With someone of the male gender. And he didn't even have to blackmail or threaten them. But he held off on his celebration. He wouldn't tell a single soul until _after _it occurred because his inner skeptic told him something would find a way to go wrong. It always did and he had to be prepared for the worst.

But at that very moment Kurt had a date planned for next weekend. And he was feeling pretty fantastic.

* * *

"Love the hat." Blaine said while escorting Kurt to the weight room. He'd rescheduled their sessions for Fridays as to not conflict with their tutoring lessons on Wednesdays.

"Love the bowtie." Kurt remarked sarcastically on pure defense before it sunk in that Blaine meant it; he really did like Kurt's hat. "Sorry." He mumbled before sipping at the coffee that his teacher went all the way to the Lima Bean to get. Just like he said he would.

Blaine shrugged it off, continuing to survey the student's outfit. "This look is…different. What inspired it?"

And Jesus Christ, could he be any more obvious? He spent way too much time looking at Kurt, noticing things. He was a total creep and waited for Kurt to call him out on it. But then again, he knew that would never even occur to him. Because his student was incredibly naïve and foolish and would never consider the possibility that Blaine's intent was less than pure. Things like that didn't exist in his world and if Blaine didn't quit pushing his limits he'd be tainting Kurt's innocent concept of reality.

"It all started when I was watching the Little Mermaid…" The student started to explain-further proving Blaine's point of how truly child-like he was no matter how he looked physically— and oh, so _that's _what it was. It was obviously a nautically themed look, but Blaine had never really encountered a sailor who wore jeans that were _that _close fitting.

"I like it." Blaine said decidedly, priding himself on the way Kurt absolutely beamed. He probably wasn't used to people taking such an interest in his passions, but Blaine found it inspirational. Kurt took something he liked and raised it to another level; made it into an art form. If people took the time to understand him more; look beyond the unusual color schemes and outlandish articles of clothing; maybe they'd see they were sharing their halls with a walking masterpiece.

And fuck, he was doing it again. That creepy thing.

"Thanks." Kurt said, eyes downcast in a display of bashfulness that Blaine absolutely lived for.

"You might want to change, though." He said as an afterthought, but he noticed the student was wearing multiple layers. "Or you could just take off the first few hundred layers."

"Okay, first of all, it's only three layers. And second of all, that would be _highly _indecent."

Jesus Christ, Blaine was going straight to hell. He was having filthy thoughts about a guy who had the values of a Puritan.

"Of course, my bad." Blaine said. "God forbid anyone sees you in your bloomers."

Kurt scoffed. "Jerk."

"Brat."

It was refreshing for Kurt, being around someone as witty as he was without them also being cruel. He didn't have to dumb himself down around Blaine to be understood; something he hadn't even realized he had to do until he was freed from doing so. And as ridiculously sentimental as it sounded it made him feel less alone. Less like he was talking to walking statues and more like he was talking to an actual human being who was willing to see him as more than a stereotype, but as a fellow person who had thoughts and feelings and dreams and hopes.

He'd been starved before then and didn't even realize it. Completely starved of what actual human contact was like. Here in this plastic city of Lima where he was regarded as a fool and a sinner, here was contact from the outside; someone who didn't buy into the stupid ideology that everyone else believed in. A free thinker, who went to college in New York and actually had a _boyfriend_, achieved the future that Kurt was striving for; a future Kurt had begun to doubt existed.

Blaine Anderson was a beacon of light in a dark world and by golly, Kurt was going to absolutely kick himself the next time he thought something that sounded so smarmy.

He was over his stupid crush, but Blaine still meant so much to him in a way the teacher wouldn't begin to understand. He was proof; living breathing proof that things could get better for people like Kurt after high school. And no one else was able to hush all the demons in his head telling him otherwise.

_And _he had a date in about a week. Things were really looking up.

* * *

"Hit me."

"I'm not going to hit you." Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm sure you've wanted to on several occasions. I'm giving you _permission_."

Kurt eyed Blaine warily before forming a fist with his right hand and aiming to punch Blaine in the arm but he found his hand being stopped. Just like that. Blaine was holding Kurt's hand in his own and had successfully evaded it.

"You know what your problem is?" Blaine said. "You're too expressive. I knew exactly what you were planning on doing and where you were planning on moving. It was written all over your face."

"I feel like I'm in the Karate Kid." Kurt mumbled.

"Uh, no. That would make me the old guy."

"My point exactly."

"Just how old do you think I am?" Blaine asked, out of genuine curiosity more than actual offense.

Great. Kurt knew he was in trouble now. Last time he guessed a teacher's age—"So Mr. Schue, you're forty now, right?"—he had not only hurt feelings, but landed himself in detention.

"Uh…thirty?" Kurt tried. He actually never spent too much time pondering Blaine's age. It was more Blaine's status that used to intimidate Kurt, not the amount of years he'd been around.

Blaine shook his head. "Close."

"Thirty five?" Kurt tried and Blaine looked absolutely scandalized so he back-pedaled. "I meant twenty-five! Just…twos and threes. Confusing stuff."

Blaine couldn't help but smirk a bit at Kurt's obvious distress. "I'm twenty six."

_Not bad, _Kurt thought and immediately felt like smacking himself for it. His days of schoolboy crushes were over. He was an adult now. Who had a date in a week. Which he was still going coastal over.

"You're practically a baby."

"Says the child." Blaine countered.

Kurt pouted. "I'm so not a child. Children are small and annoying and ask a bunch of questions."

"You've just described yourself." Blaine remarked and chuckled at Kurt's less than pleased expression.

"Well, at least my questions are insightful."

"Oh, is that what they're calling pretentious nowadays?"

The look on the boy's face was priceless. Blaine would pay money to have it framed.

"You, sir, are unlawfully rude."

_And you're simply unlawful, _Blaine thought but didn't say. Just then Blaine's phone rang and he answered it, grateful for the distraction.

* * *

They finally left the building at around five, engaging in light chatter as they walked across the parking lot to their respective cars.

"So am I improving?" Kurt asked, walking artfully through the snow while Blaine's stature only allowed him to plunder through it.

"It's as I've said earlier, you're just really predictable."

"I'd have to disagree." Kurt said absent-mindedly, although a quick glance behind him informed Blaine that the student was clearly delighting in kicking his feet through a mound of snow as opposed to taking his words to heart.

Blaine smiled a bit at the display before turning back around to walk toward his car. "Face it, Hummel. You're an open-" He stopped talking mid-sentence when he felt the impact of the ball of snow on his left cheek.

"And I'm so sure you saw that coming."

Blaine turned around to see Kurt wearing the smuggest grin and he really could not have that, now could he? So he simply scooped up some snow himself and threw it at the student; the majority of it hitting his shoulder.

"You really have no clue what you've gotten yourself into." Kurt said and a few throws later they were having a full blown snowball fight.

A snowball fight, for Christ's sake. Blaine honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd had one of these; or if he'd really had any at all.

He never really got excited about the snow growing up. But then again he grew up in Jersey, and people from Jersey never got overly emotional about much, except when someone claimed Pizza Hut served real pizza, or a driver doesn't navigate based on parkway exits. Really, being desensitized to his surroundings was something deeply rooted in his upbringing.

But Kurt saw the value in the snow. And because he saw it, Blaine saw it.

And he wouldn't be able to explain how it happened; but they both tripped at the same instance, causing both of them to fall straight in the snow.

"Oh my god, I'm absolutely _covered _in it." Kurt practically shrieked but then about a moment or two into his breakdown he seemed to decide it wasn't worth the heart attack, opting to laugh instead. And wow, Blaine took back everything he said about Kurt being predictable. He was dynamic, constantly shifting and changing and revealing some new side of him; some better side that Blaine adored even more than the last.

Blaine was laughing too, picking himself up and brushing the snow off of his person before helping Kurt off of the ground as well. The student's normally perfectly styled hair was now drooping; dusted with snow here and there.

"Come here, you've got um- you've got a bit of snow…" Blaine mumbled, reaching up with a gloved hand and brushing it off. This close he could see how flushed Kurt was; could feel the heat radiating off of him in stark contrast to the cold air all around him; the slight shiver running up his student's spine.

He stood there longer than necessary; simply watching Kurt breathe; his puffs of air visible in the frigid atmosphere and he could feel himself slipping, slipping, slipping and couldn't help but think that there was really no harm in falling, was there? Just this once; one taste couldn't really be much of a sin, could it?

And then Kurt cleared his throat and backed away a few inches. "I've uh...I've got to get going. But thank you, sir. I _really _appreciate the help."

Blaine's head was swimming with what he almost did, and it would have been so _stupid, stupid, stupid_.

"Anytime. Have a good weekend."

"You too." Kurt said, before walking a few feet to his car, getting in, and driving off.

Blaine got into his car too, but didn't drive off right away. He simply leaned his head against the steering wheel and groaned loudly. He was in way too deep at this point and was a cross between being remorseful and rejoicing.


	14. Chapter 14

"I apologize for Cooper in advance and promise not to let him off of his leash next time." Blaine said as soon as he picked up Santana's call, laptop open with a half-finished college recommendation on the screen.

She laughed. "Thanks, but that's not what I'm calling about. I have exciting news…"

"You've finally landed that big blockbuster movie deal?"

"No. Keep guessing." She said, giggling a little. _Giggling._

Throughout his entire time of knowing Santana he had probably heard her giggle a total of three times. As he thought back on those times it all slowly sunk in.

"Wait…are you-" He started but was promptly cut off.

"I'M GETTING HITCHED, HOBBIT!" She yelled into the phone before laughing again with pure unaltered joy.

"San, that is _amazing_." He said, and then added. "Wait. Not to Cooper, right?"

It wouldn't be the first time Cooper had managed to convince someone to marry him overnight.

"No, but lord knows he tried." Santana said. "Brittany proposed over dinner last night…"

Blaine listened to Santana's detailed retelling of the moment with a fond smile on his face. It would be just like Brittany to lose the ring and then have the management make an announcement to find said ring because she had to propose to her fiancé but "shhh it's a surprise".

"So, any idea of when?" He asked.

"We're thinking of a summer wedding…"

Blaine had attended his fair share of weddings. But as he grew older they were occurring more and more frequently. He watched as pretty much all of his friends finally decided to settle down and well…grow up.

He supposed marriage was just a formality, but the idea did scare him. It just seemed so official. So dead-end. And it sealed the deal in a way that he guessed he wasn't ready for. He loved Sebastian, honestly, but he'd seen from experience that marriage had a way of ruining love. Seeing the way his own parents argued simply jaded him from the whole experience.

Plus Sebastian wasn't exactly the type to be interested in marriage. There was no way he could picture the two exchanging vows without Sebastian laughing out loud at the cheesiness of it all and suggesting they skip the whole ceremony and go somewhere more private. But Blaine loved that about him; his dislike for all things traditional.

And how odd was that; to fall in love with someone else's hatred?

When he told Sebastian the news the reaction was expected.

"Do we actually have to show up?"

Blaine gave him a look. "She's your friend too, you know."

Cue the sigh. "Well, I don't do weddings."

"_Well, _you do now." Blaine said with finality; laughing at the resulting frown. "It's months away, anyhow."

And Sebastian actually _pouted, _which instantly reminded Blaine of a specific person that he should definitely have not been thinking of while talking to his boyfriend. He blinked slightly; trying to rid himself of the disconcerting image.

"I'll be in the living room if you need me." Blaine declared; kissing Sebastian's pout and heading off to another room to clear his head.

* * *

"If we sing one more Journey song I'll mutiny." Kurt mumbled under his breath to Mercedes during Glee club the following Monday afternoon. That past weekend the club had managed to successfully not suck ass at Sectionals, and were now preparing for Regionals.

The Spanish teacher seemed overly excited about something and whenever that happened Kurt just got increasingly nervous. It was like watching a car come at you in slow motion and not being able to move. Tina, in the first row of seats, had given up on listening entirely; earphones in both of her ears to drown out the madness.

"I've been hearing some wonderful things about these duets, guys. I'm really glad you guys are working together so well." He praised. "But I feel like you're all getting a bit too comfortable. So I've decided to up the stakes."

"The winners get to be the opening act at Regionals." Mercedes whispered to Kurt about five seconds before Mr. Schue said it. "I swear I'm watching a re-run."

Kurt smirked a bit at the joke but the truth was it really did pique his interest. He'd been a member of this club back when there were five members and didn't get a single solo at Regionals the year previous. And although he wasn't as obnoxious about it as some of his fellow classmates—okay, so maybe he did get pretty annoying—he deserved his chance to shine.

This year would be his. He had a boyfriend; although that wasn't finalized yet it was _so _happening, he was getting amazing grades; save for chemistry but he was steadily working on it, so naturally the next step was to blow everyone away with his wonderful talent at Regionals and get a standing ovation. Sure, he'd have to share it with Quinn but he didn't mind that.

He must have spent the whole meeting day-dreaming because before he knew it everyone was getting up to leave and Finn was saying something to him about staying back for football practice. Kurt took that as his opportunity to grab Quinn and practice because he'd go to hell and back to make sure Rachel Berry, bless her soul, didn't steal this away from him.

* * *

Sebastian stormed out of the hospital and away from Blaine. The aforementioned, on the other hand, couldn't understand why his boyfriend was so knew Blaine wasn't really well adjusted when it came to conversing with the overly sensitive, stick-up-the-ass friends that Sebastian insisted on associating himself with outside of the work place. This must have been the third banquet he'd managed to make a mess of, and only one of them was intentional.

"Seb, wait!" Blaine called after him as the aforementioned trudged across the parking lot. "How was I supposed to know Shannon had herpetophobia?"

The curiosity was enough to stop Sebastian in his tracks. He turned and regarded Blaine in a mixture of fondness and irritation. "What the _hell _does herstophobia mean?"

"_Herpetophobia_." Blaine corrected. "And it means fear of reptiles."

Sebastian actually laughed out loud at that because he really wasn't sure what else to do. The situation was ludicrous. "Well, I'd be pretty terrified too if I saw some scaly green thing looking up at me from the dinner table."

"He was supposed to be in his cage."

"Riddle me this, bird brain." Sebastian said, trying his best to be patient. "Why the _fuck _would you need a lizard?"

Blaine explained that he'd been baby-sitting Thomas—"Who's Thomas?" "The lizard, Sebastian, keep up."—for the biology teacher while he went to Arizona for a funeral. He figured it wasn't on a need to know basis and just neglected to tell Sebastian; keeping the tank in their attic. It seemed simple enough in his head, but it got a whole lot weirder once one tiny mistake made a grown woman faint and flash a whole room full of businessmen and lawyers in the process. It basically resulted in an early end to the festivities while the two of them had to accompany Shannon to the hospital.

"Why are you so _weird_?" Sebastian asked, not out of meanness but a genuine curiosity and desperation to know. "Don't you get how hard it already is? We're already the freaks; do we really need to stand-out any more than we already do?"

Blaine got this lecture every time he fucked up in front of someone responsible for signing Sebastian's paycheck. Sebastian had never been one to hide; being out and proud about his preferences the moment he accepted his position. And although not everyone was comfortable with it at first, Sebastian was such a good worker to the point that people overlooked it. That didn't stop the occasional snide remark here and there, but there was a time when Sebastian honestly did not care what anyone thought of him. Of them.

"Since when did you start caring so much what these people think of you?" Blaine asked.

Blaine didn't think any of them were worth his spit, if he were being truthful. They were like characters out of a badly written book; two dimensional and too laughable to be quite real.

"It's my _job _to care, Blaine. Caring is what gets me a raise. And my job's what pays for our house, and our cars, and the fucking medical bill we're probably going to have by the end of tonight."

Blaine didn't really care how many nice things their house was filled with if the people living in said house were empty.

"You keep acting like you're the only one that works."

"With your pitiful paycheck I might as well be."

_That _stung. But Blaine didn't get into that argument today. "They're all jerks anyway. And they smell like moth balls and never talk about things that matter."

Sebastian huffed out a short chuckle. "_Grow up_."

"You don't either, you know. You never talk about anything that matters."

"What does that even _mean_?" Sebastian asked. "Jesus Christ, you're always saying things that make no god damn sense."

Blaine looked him dead in the eye. He couldn't have been the only one who felt it. The way they were drifting apart. The old Sebastian he knew would have found a way to make a big joke out of all of this; would have appreciated the hilarity of watching stuck up Shannon flash her grandma panties.

"You know exactly what I mean."

He could see the panic behind Sebastian's eyes at the thought of where this conversation could possibly be going. "_Fine_. You want to talk? We'll talk! We'll talk all _fucking _night about whatever you want just…" Don't do anything rash. Don't use your brain. Don't think on it too much. Don't leave.

And in that moment Blaine could have done it. He could have walked away and put as much distance between himself and the beast as he could.

But there was a beauty within the beast that would never permit him to be the one to leave.

"I'm sorry." He said. "Keeping a lizard in the attic was one of my dumber ideas."

And then Sebastian laughed and Blaine caught a brief glimpse of who he had been.

"You're nuts." Sebastian insisted as he wrapped an arm around Blaine's shoulders and walked with him to the car. "Absolutely insane."

* * *

Things between Sebastian and Blaine went back to normal quickly and with ease. Blaine was in a considerably better mood by Wednesday afternoon as he waited in his classroom for Kurt to come by for tutoring.

Honestly, if Sebastian's fake friends at his job were what made him happy, then Blaine would allow himself to delight in his friendship with the student. And any other feelings beyond that were promptly chased away.

In fact, he had decided to stop torturing himself with temptation. So as Kurt entered the classroom and made to sit in his usual seat next to Blaine he was redirected to a seat at the back of the classroom.

"Did I do something wrong?" Kurt asked out of slight concern and Blaine quickly shook his head. He didn't want Kurt to blame himself for Blaine's lack of self- control.

"I'm just giving you some practice standardized test questions. It's timed so I didn't want to distract you." He explained, handing Kurt the booklet.

Kurt nodded, not seeming overly excited about silently working the whole time but not opening his mouth to complain either. Blaine quickly gave Kurt instructions before heading over to his desk in the front of the classroom to work on writing letters of recommendation for some of his students who were applying for early admission to colleges. He purposely left them for Wednesday to give himself something to do as opposed to gawking at Kurt.

Nevertheless, an hour into it he lost resolve and found himself glancing up at the student, only to find him texting. Typical.

"Kurt. Phone. Now." Blaine said, holding his palm out.

"It was my Dad." Kurt insisted. "I was just letting him know I'm with you. He forgets sometimes."

"Just pass it to me anyway. I don't want you to be tempted."

Kurt seemed reluctant to do so but eventually stood up and handed Blaine his phone. And at the very moment he did it buzzed with a text and a name popped up on the screen.

"Who's Chandler?" Blaine asked.

"No one." Kurt mumbled but his cheeks were flushed in a way that revealed otherwise.

"If you won't tell me I'll find out myself." Blaine declared teasingly, smirking when he saw Kurt panic at the idea of Blaine going through his texts.

"I'm like one hundred percent sure you're not allowed to do that."

"And _you're _not allowed to text in my classroom."

"Touché."

"So spill." Blaine declared. "Who's _Chandler_?" He stressed his name; playfully batting his eyelashes and watching as Kurt resisted the urge to smack him.

"Just a guy I met." Kurt said bashfully but then quickly turned upset at Blaine's laugh in response. "Okay, you're having _way _too much fun with this."

"No." Blaine said, trying to keep his face serious. "I'm being a responsible adult and making sure you're not talking to forty year old pedophiles."

"Chandler _is _a forty year old pedophile. Case closed." Kurt said. "Now can we talk about something else?"

"I don't know. I think it's my job to tell your Dad if that's the case."

"Well played." Kurt said begrudgingly. "Chandler is a boy. A seventeen year old one. And I'm going on a date with him this weekend."

Blaine didn't know why his heart dropped at that. He knew from the beginning that Kurt was going to say some variation of that sentence, but he guessed he was hoping he'd been wrong.

"How exciting." Blaine remarked, trying to convince himself to be happy for him. "Where?"

It was like he had broken a dam, because all of a sudden Kurt was talking in a flood of words and gestures.

"Okay, so, he's taking me to a community theater in Columbus to go see the _Sound of Music_, and, for the record I'm pretty much in love with the Sound of Music; anyway, he's sort of been flirting for a while now but-"

Blaine started to shut it out. He wouldn't have any of it. Kurt, the literal definition of a blushing virgin going off with some beastly boy and possibly stealing shy kisses in the back of a theater, which could lead to nervous; fumbling hands practically defacing him in the back of some car and really, the thought left Blaine's blood boiling. He didn't want to hear any more of it and Kurt just _kept _going on about how excited he was; how he couldn't wait and it would be so great and really, Chandler's such a sweet guy and Kurt had no idea how he got so _lucky_.

"And I mean, the best part is that he's not in Glee club. Don't get me wrong; I love them, but it feels as if all they do is date in different combinations. It's like, I'm pretty sure everyone's kissed each other _at least _once."

Blaine's grip tightened a bit on the pen he was holding.

"Kurt, as much as I love hearing about your private life; you should keep who you kiss to yourself." He teased with a soft laugh.

Kurt got flustered. He began to stammer. "No, I didn't mean-" He took a deep breath, and started again. "I meant everyone but me. I've never kissed anyone."

Blaine feigned surprise. "Never?"

Kurt shook his head. "No time." He lied like it was second nature. "It's kind of hard to make time for that stuff when trying to win a Tony by age thirty and…"

The student went on and on about his future goals and aspirations but all they sounded like were excuses to avoid socializing and partaking in normal behavior. His mouth was moving at a thousand miles and his eyes were practically lighting up at the mere _thought _and Blaine would swear the next thing he did was just to shut him up.

"I admire your ambition. I really do." And he swore his body moved of its own accord as he set the phone down. He got up, his feet moving forward as if on autopilot as he watched Kurt take a step back into the wall. "But a kiss really doesn't take that long."

Kurt's eyes widened and could Blaine blame him? Even he couldn't believe the stuff coming out of his own mouth. "Sir..." Kurt breathed out, because that's all he could find in his vocabulary in such a ludicrous moment.

"Don't call me that." He said a bit too quickly, the formal title always being Kurt's way of putting up boundaries between them. He grew weary of it; every attempt of Kurt's to distance himself from everyone who dared to care.

And Blaine didn't neglect to notice the way the student's eyes briefly flickered down to Blaine's lips. As much as Kurt Hummel liked to play the innocent he knew _exactly _what was on his mind and the thought of the prim and proper boy feeling anything resembling lust was enough to drive anyone crazy.

That's what he would claim it was; in the end. Temporary insanity.

It was his mental instability that caused him to push Kurt against the wall; his clear psychotic nature that drove him to press his lips to Kurt's.

And _oh_, it was more than he imagined it would be. Kurt's lips were soft and warm and inviting. And the _sound _that came out of his mouth; something akin to a whine or a whimper; a noise of confusion like the student was at an absolute loss and had never felt something quite like this. But he was unresponsive, as if in shock.

That should have been when Blaine knew to stop. Maybe he could have salvaged the moment if he did. A taste was all he'd promised himself but now that he got it he wasn't sure if he could ever be separate from the boy again.

He continued to kiss him; slowly and deliberately as he guided Kurt's hands to his waist. And Kurt simply let himself be kissed, but soon that wasn't enough for Blaine.

All it took was a quick tug of Kurt's hair to get his mouth open. Blaine let his tongue slide slowly passed Kurt's lips when they parted, seeking the teens tongue and he shivered when he felt it, soft against his own. And it took coaxing; much coaxing but soon Kurt's lips were moving experimentally against his own and Blaine thought _this _is it. This is paradise; this is heaven on earth-

It was the shrill ringing of his phone that brought him back down to reality. The harsh sound delivered him back to the harsh world; the world that wasn't nearly as lovely as the one he got to share with Kurt. He pulled back, delighting in the way Kurt's eyes were half-lidded, his lips following Blaine's on instinct for a split second before he caught on and pulled back as well.

And then a millisecond later the guilt and the disgust washed down on Blaine all at once; and he took several steps back. He had just forced himself on a student. An underage student. And things had just become a lot more sinister than he originally intended. And god _damn it_, he'd smash that phone into a million pieces if it didn't stop ringing.

Kurt was still looking at him; all wide-eyed and bewildered and Blaine really couldn't take it because _even now _he felt the urge to close the gap between them.

"I'm…Jesus, I'm so sorry. Oh my god." Blaine said, panic properly settling in. He could see how the next few minutes would go. Kurt would run out of the classroom and report him instantly and Blaine would lose his job as well as most likely land jail time.

He honestly would have preferred it to what really happened next. What really happened was far worse than anything Blaine's mind could conjure up.

Kurt looked at him and smiled. Smiled at Blaine like he wasn't the monster that he was.

"Wow. That was…wow." Kurt said, practically swooning and in another life time Blaine would be acting all love-struck to; but as they stood now he could hold nothing but contempt.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt." He kept saying because he didn't know what to say.

"I'm not going to tell; if that's what you're worried about." Kurt said and Blaine wanted to smack some sense into the student so he would realize the gravity of the situation. "I should have seen this coming…you see, I had managed to convince myself I made this all up in my head but-"

"Kurt, please stop talking."

"…but I didn't, did I? You have feelings for me. And that works out because I have feelings for you too…"

And Blaine honestly felt so sick to his stomach at what was happening he didn't know how he was holding himself together. "Stop!" He yelled and Kurt went completely silent. Throughout the entirety of their…whatever they had been, he'd never really yelled at Kurt.

"You don't have feelings for me." Blaine said firmly. "You don't even _know _me. You're going on a date in a few days with who I'm sure is a _lovely _person-"

"You're not honestly factoring _Chandler _into this, are you?" It had become very clear to Kurt that Blaine had no idea just how long his infatuation for him had went on for. "I don't even really-"

"Kurt, this isn't me _negotiating _with you." Blaine said. "I'm going to ask you to leave this classroom and what you do is your choice. You can go report me for all I-"

"This stays between us."

Blaine didn't want Kurt occupying his head with delusions because it wouldn't take long for him to convince Blaine, too_._ He'd be entering a world of falsehoods with Kurt and as wonderfully inviting as that sounded, one wrong step would land them straight in hell. So he took a deep breath before saying, "Fine. If you're not going to do the right thing and report it then I suggest you _forget it happened_."

Kurt's expression fell. He looked sad. Why did he always look so sad? "But _that's not fair_."

"_Grow up_." Blaine said harshly out of sheer frustration before he realized what he said and nearly wanted to pull his own hair out.

And he watched as Kurt literally deflated; going from boisterous and argumentative to resigned. For a split second hurt flashed across his features, but it was quickly fashioned into understanding.

"It's probably best if I go…" And then he added, "We'll talk about this on a later date when you're not going through menopause."

Blaine couldn't help but laugh slightly. As much pain as Kurt was bringing him in this moment; he brought him a tremendous amount of joy.

"No, we won't."

Kurt simply rolled his eyes, leaning over Blaine to reach for his phone before stepping back toward the door. "See you later, Blaine."

"It's Mr. Anderson!" Blaine called to him, adding a faint, "Brat."

But Kurt was already gone, leaving Blaine alone with his dreadful, dreadful thoughts.


End file.
